DUKE 
UNIVERSITY 


DIVINITY SCHOOL 
LIBRARY 


EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF 
ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


Reproduced by permission of the arlist and the Governors of Blundell's School. 


ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE. 


From the painting by Professor Hubert Von Herkomer; presented to “ Blundell’s” 
by Mr. John Coles, J.P., in commemoration of the Tercentenary of the School. 


Frontisptece.} 


EARLY ASSOCIATIONS 


OF 


ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


A RECORD OF BLUNDELL’S SCHOOL 
AND ITS NEIGHBOURHOOD 


BY 


Fo? J. SNELI&oeea. 


AUTHOR OF ‘‘ A BOOK OF EXMOOR,” ETC. 


WITH SEVENTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS 
AND A FACSIMILE LETTER 


NEW YORK 
THOMAS WHITTAKER 
2 & 3 BIBLE HOUSE 


Sul 993 sha 
| TV RBRS 


PRE AAC © 


HE idea of the present work—that of weaving 

the interest of a fine neighbourhood and a 
famous school around a single great personality— 
suggested itself to the writer several years ago, when 
he confided his design to the late Mr. R. D. Blackmore, 
and received his hearty God-speed. It might have 
been well—it certainly seemed so at the time—had 
the book been published during the Archbishop’s life- 
time, seeing that the period, though full of attraction, 
is somewhat remote. A higher standard of accuracy 
might then have been attained. Dr. Temple, how- 
ever, preferred that no biographical sketch of any sort 
or kind should appear until after his death ; and to 
this decision the writer, however reluctantly, felt he 
must needs bow. 

The Tercentenary of Blundell’s School is to be 
celebrated in June 1904, and the authorities, having 
regard to the comparatively recent decease of the 
greatest and one of the most attached of Blundell’s 
sons, have decided to identify the event with his 
memory by the institution of Temple scholarships and 
the unveiling of a portrait. It is to be hoped, there- 
fore, that the volume, enshrining as it does so much 


Viii PREFACE 


that was dear to Dr. Temple, may be of service to 
his schoolfellows.as well as to the general public. 

Blundell’s School has produced a, whole army of 
heroes, and it may be that more impartial posterity 
will rank Bishop Bull higher in the scale of merit than 
Archbishop Temple; we do not know about that— 
but the romantic region of the Blackdowns has waited 
long for its great man, for the inspiring human figure 
that shall draw to Culmstock Beacon and Dunkeswell 
Abbey a larger array of pilgrims than has hitherto 
wended its way to the “chines” and “ coombes ” 
and “castles” of the East Devon range—henceforth 
Temple’s country. 

On the whole, however, these western hills must 
yield the palm to Blundell’s School, a great historic 
foundation which, during the three centuries of its 
existence, has been of incalculable benefit to the West 
Country first, and then to the nation. Of course, the 
school has known many changes; it has experienced 
ups and downs, and in the old days abuses, like rank © 
weeds, flourished within its precincts. As human 
nature is constituted, it seems inevitable that pride 
and prejudice should dog prosperity ; and institutions, 
like individuals, sometimes take a long time in learning 
that it is the duty of the strong to protect and en- 
courage the weak, not to oppress them. A healthy 
boy, unless he has been very carefully trained, is in 
danger of becoming a perfect tyrant, though he may 
be at the same time a charming fellow, whose maturity 
will strangely belie his hectoring youth. Concerning 


PREFACE ix 


the persecution of the native boys, which in some 
cases was horrible, I believe it to have been due in no 
small measure to the love of party and the tendency 
to make and take sides, which has since found better 
expression. When the writer was at the school no 
day-boy was ever bullied as such; indeed, whether 
for numbers or prowess, day-boys could speak with 
the boarders in the gates. 

One of the late Archbishop’s principal reasons for 
admiring the old style of education was, that under 
it boys were allowed some amount of initiative and 
independence in their studies. At present it would 
no doubt be difficult, especially in a large school like 
Blundell’s, to translate into practice what many would 
approve theoretically. Still, the writer remembers with 
interest that the headmaster (Mr. A. L. Francis, M.A.), 
who still guides the fortunes of the school, granted him 
a good deal of latitude; and he ventures to think that, 
with proper tact on the part of the boy or his parents, 
similar privileges might even now be secured. It is 
right to state that this expression of opinion is quite 
voluntary and entirely irresponsible, being: merely a 
particular application of a general truth, “ What has 
been, may be.” 

While the existing generation has a tolerably clear 
appreciation of the late primate as a man, nobody 
perhaps can supply us with a psychological analysis 
of what he was as a boy. Of course, we know that 
he was a good boy—which is much—but one would 
desire, if possible, to enlarge our scope somewhat, and 


a * 


x PREFACE 


extract a moral from Dr. Temple’s career. Working 
backwards, I have come to the conclusion that he 
was a “ hard-witted ” rather than a “ quick-witted ” lad. 
The distinction is Ascham’s, and the reader might do 
worse than consult the Scholemaster for a full exposi- 
tion of the point. One passage, however, we feel we 
must quote, since it appears as if written not of any 
chance boy or boys, but proleptically of Temple. 
“Contrariwise, a wit in youth that is not over-dull, 
heavy, knotty, or lumpish, but hard, rough, and some- 
what staffish, as Tully wisheth ot:um, quietum non 
languidum ; and negotium cum labore, non cum periculo ; 
such a wit, if it be at first well handled by the mother, 
and rightly smoothed and wrought as it should, not 
overthwartly and against the wood, by the schoolmaster, 
both for learning and whole course of living, proveth 
always the best. Hard wits be hard to receive, but 
sure to keep ; painful without weariness, heedful with- 
out wavering, constant without newfangleness ; bearing 
heavy things, though not lightly, yet willingly ; entering 
hard things, though not easily, yet deeply; and so 
come to that perfectness of learning in the end that 
quick wits seem in hope, but do not in deed, or else 
very seldom, ever attain unto. Also for manners and 
life, hard wits commonly are hardly carried either to 
desire every new thing, or else to marvel at every 
strange thing; and. therefore they be careful and 
diligent in their own matters, not curious and busy in 
other men’s affairs; and so they become wise them- 
selves, and also are counted honest by others. They 


PREFACE Xi 


be grave, steadfast, silent of tongue, secret of heart. 
Not hasty in making, but constant in keeping any 
promise. Not rash in uttering, but wary in con- 
sidering every matter; and thereby, not quick in 
speaking, but deep of judgment, whether they write or 
give counsel in all weighty affairs. And these be the 
men that become in the end both most happy for 
themselves and always best esteemed in the world.” 
The sources of this work have been many and 
manifold, printed and oral. I have had chats galore 
with the fathers of Culmstock, and, Messrs. Channon, 
and Lee, and Norton, and Wood, and Furbear, God 
rest you, gentlemen, for the information you have given 
me. If some of it appears not here, yet peradventure 
it shall blossom forth in another garden another day, 
for this simple volume may not contain all. The 
Transactions of the Devonshire Association and the 
Proceedings of the Somerset Society, the files of Zhe 
Tiverton Gazette and those of The Blundellian, in which 
periodical too many years ago I myself commenced 
author, have been laid under contribution; and of 
books, saving Blackmore’s romances, the most relevant 
and valuable were three—Mr. W. H. Hamilton Rogers’ 
Memorials of the West, Mr. A. L. Humphreys’ Materzals 
towards a History of Wellington (to which I have 
added my rent and reckoning for the usufruct), and 
Colonel Harding’s laborious but decidedly uninspired 
flistory of Tiverton. To the writers of divers anony- 
mous contributions to The Blundellian 1 would fain 
tender individual and heartfelt acknowledgments, since 


Xii PREFACE 


their timely efforts have much facilitated my task ; 
but their modesty and my ignorance oppose a bar, 
and, from internal evidence, I fear that most, if not all, 
of these provident, and providential, seniors have 
entered the Silent Land. A goodly proportion of the 
Tiverton lore came to me in this wise. An old 
butcher of the town, named Davey, was in his last 
days fired with the worthy ambition of perpetuating 
his recollections, and, as a first step, communicated 
them to Mr. T. G. Field, then editor of The Devon and 
Somerset Weekly News, who very goodnaturedly found 
space for them in that journal. When Davey had 
pretty well emptied himself he handed me the notes, 
with the proviso that, if at any future time I dealt 
with a local topic, I would endeavour to utilise them. 
That promise I have now redeemed. 

In conclusion, I may remark that, the work having 
been written for .the most part before the fiscal con- 
troversy became a burning question, it was in no sense 
projected as a bulwark of Free Trade, as the phrase 
was formerly understood. Like almost everybody else, 
I was under the impression that Free Trade (in the 
old sense) was as much a symbol of British supremacy 
as the Union Jack, and could never become a party 
shibboleth. But those who live the longest see the 
most. 

F. J. SNELL. 


TIVERTON, 
NortH DEVON. 


CONTENTS 


PREFACE A : : ; ‘ : . Vii 
CHAPTER I 

THE BLACKDOWN RANGE. 4 3 e ‘ I 
CHAPTER II 

FROM AGE TO AGE é : : ed ite UR 


CHAPTER III 


PT te dk Veh a: ty a MAN ae eee 


CHAPTER IV 


THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS . . 71 
CHAPTER V 
JOHN POPHAM AND PETER BLUNDELL . - 105 


CHAPTER VI 


THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF BLUNDELL’S SCHOOL 124 
xiii 


xiv CONTENTS 


CHAPTER VII 


HEROES BEFORE AGAMEMNON 


CHAPTER VIII 


TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 


CHAPTER IX 


HUMOURS OF A COUNTRY TOWN. 


CHAPTER X 


MORE ABOUT TIVERTON 


CHAPTER XI 


THE REIGN OF “SAS” . 


CHAPTER XII 


SOME FESTIVALS 


CHAPTER XIII 


AT OXFORD 


CHAPTER XIV 
AS OLD BOY AND GOVERNOR 


PAGE 


194 


213 


232 


273 


301 


316 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE . é . . . é : . Frontispiece 

To face page 
BEACON HILL . ° . . A > : . ° . . . 8 
THE RUINS, DUNKESWELL ABBEY . . ° . . . . ° 32 
CULMSTOCK BRIDGE F ; ; : : : ‘ : : oo 56 
DR. TEMPLE AND HIS MOTHER. - 7 : : “ 088 
PETER BLUNDELL . . : . : = ¢ . o . 7 £20 
FRONT VIEW OF BLUNDELL’'S OLD SCHOOL . 5 Fs . e Spun (6) 
INTERIOR OF BLUNDELL’S OLD SCHOOL 5 . . . . . 160 
R, D. BLACKMORE . ‘ ‘ i 7 é , : : 3 . 184 
FORE STREET, TIVERTON, IN 1834 5 . . . . ° - 208 
VEN. ARCHDEACON SANDERS, ° ° . . , c ° . 236 
WASHFIELD WEIR . . . . 5 : ° . . . » 252 


ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE’S NAME, CARVED ON THE WALL OF BLUNDELL’'S 


COOOL Cw My C TT Tepue al | Ester, Cs \eun reo nd co al ae Wehae Wa eet 
THE PORTER’S LODGE OF THE OLD SCHOOL, 1831 Saks hs Sigh Soa GAl 
OLD BLUNDELL’S; INTERIOR OF THE UPPER SCHOOL, 1831 J Veh 06 
BUUNDELE'S SCHOOL, PRESENT DAY =. 0: 03. w/a) /2 356 


ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE ON HIS WAY TO BLUNDELL’S CHAPEL . - 328 


EARLY ASSOCIATIONS 


OF 


ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


CHAPTER I 


THE BLACKDOWN RANGE 


\ X JE shall a little later introduce Archbishop 
Temple, and give some account of his early 
days, but it will be appropriate that we should at the 
outset devote some chapters to the western hills amidst 
which he, as well as the perhaps no less famous Black- 
more, spent a most interesting part of their lives. 
Although the compiler of that valuable work, Zhe 
Beauties of England, has been good enough to describe 
the Blackdown Range as “a dreary waste”—a matter 
on which we hope to say something presently—from 
a geologist’s point of view, at any rate, it is a verit- 
able paradise. To use the expression of one of them, 
it is “classic ground.” In speaking of the Black- 
down Range, we employ a phrase sanctioned by usage, 
but there is something to be said for it in principle. 
Viewed from any point which commands their full 
I 


2 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


extent, the outline of these hills is strikingly horizontal, 
and their upper surfaces constitute a series of table- 
lands. If this does not realise one’s conception of a 
range of hills, then it may well be thought difficult to 
attach a definite meaning to words. However, no less 
an authority than De la Beche takes exception to the 
term, and, as the physical character of this part of 
Devon is so well set forth in his Report, we feel it our 
duty, in the interests of accuracy, to transcribe some 
of his remarks: 

“ They [the Blackdown Hills] cannot be said to form 
a range of hills, but rather an elevated table-land cut 
into, more particularly on the west and south, by deep 
valleys, which thus divide it into several long lines, 
chiefly running to the west, south-west, and south. The 
longest continuous line of this kind is that which 
extends from Staple Hill on the north and runs about 
seventeen miles by Brown Down, Birch Hill, the hill 
forming the left side of the valley of the Otter, to 
Honiton, Faraway Hill, on the west of Northleigh, 
Gittisham Hill, and the hill on the east of Ottery St. 
Mary to Beacon Hill, above Harpford on the Otter. 
A depression here takes place for about three-quarters 
of a mile, after which Peak Hill and High Peak Hill, 
near Sidmouth, continue the line to the sea for about two 
miles and a quarter, so that, including the depression, 
this line of high land extends about twenty miles, 
varying in elevation from 600 to 750 ft. Bold pro- 
montories and isolated portions at the termination of 
the lines of elevated land have, from their commanding 
positions, been seized upon at different periods for 
military purposes, and the remains of ancient earth- 
works or camps are seen in various directions, among 


THE BLACKDOWN RANGE 3 


which may be noticed Castle Neroche, rising above 
Curland, Membury Castle, Musbury Castle, Hawksdown, 
near Axmouth; Sidbury Hill, near Sidmouth; Dumpdon, 
879 ft. above the sea, on the north of Honiton; and 
Hembury Castle, near Broadhembury.” 

To these may be added the landward remnant of the 
camp on High Peak, west of Sidmouth, and the en- 
trenchment on Stockland Hill. 

There is a sense in which the Blackdown Range may 
be described as a detached portion of Dartmoor, and 
it holds a sisterly relation to Haldon, which is one stage 
nearer that alpine region of Devon. In both cases 
the uppermost deposits, which are of no great thick- 
ness, correspond, and differ, alike in the nature and 
condition of their materials, from what is directly 
beneath them. If we ask of what these uppermost 
deposits consist, the geologist tells us that they are 
composed principally of flints. But here and there, 
and in some plenty, other déérzs is to be found. In 
this natural museum, as it may be termed, we come 
upon fragments of red porphyry, altered slates, black 
schorly granite and quartz from Dartmoor. All the 
latter specimens are rounded like sea-shingle, and the 
whole mass appears water-worn. In the upper Black- 
down beds the crystalline rocks are less in proportion 
to the others than is the case on Haldon, but the pebbles 
are identical in character and have been derived, there 
is no reason to doubt, from the same quarter. In other 
words, they are Dartmoor detritus, disintegrated material 
of rocks. But what does this imply? The fact that 
the pebbles are rounded may be considered to supply 
the answer. They are not only like sea-shingle, they 
are sea-shingle; the pebbles, gravels, and sands have 


4 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


been deposited by the sea. Now let us look at the 
table-land character of the Blackdown Hills. To what 
is this due? Evidently, to the action of water, to the 
grinding, levelling action of the breaking waves, which 
can alone have transported the wreck of Dartmoor 
rocks. These horizontal uplands have been happily 
styled “platforms or terraces of denudation,’ which 
phrase applies, of course, to the time when they formed 
part of the seashore. 

In calculating the extent of either range, it is fair 
to include all the valleys ramifying its table-land, since 
they are integral parts of its physical geography. Thus 
estimated, the area of the Blackdowns from the coast 
northward is roughly 165 square miles and the com- 
bined area of Great and Little Haldon about five square 
miles. The time was, no doubt, when this elevated 
plateau covered the whole region bounded by the 
Quantocks on the north and Dartmoor on the west. 
With the large problem thus opened up we do not 
propose to deal, but we will endeavour to solve a 
smaller, but not less interesting, question, in the belief 
that, should we succeed in answering it, we may be 
determining the other point—the origin of that great 
void—as well. 

Blackdown and Haldon are furrowed by deep ravines. 
What has become of the material which once filled 
them? Or, we may ask, where are now the beds 
that spanned the wide gulf between the two ranges, 
which ages since were united? There can be no doubt 
as to the reply. The prime agents in this work of 
terrestrial revolution are the Exe and the Culm, with 
their tributaries. The Culm itself enters the Exe at 
some distance above its estuary, and then what do we 


THE BLACKDOWN RANGE 5 


find? All Devonshire people and all who have travelled 
on the main line of railway must have been struck 
with the immense accumulation of mud on both sides 
of the river, and opposite its mouth. The Exmouth 
Warren, as the insulated portion is called, is a familiar 
object to residents and visitors, and has acquired 
sufficient consistency to permit of picnics being held 
amidst its tall grass. It has also an interesting history, 
of which only the opening chapter can be recorded 
here. Now the difference in colour between the sea- 
beach at Exmouth and the Warren, sand-banks, and 
littoral zone is so remarkable that even the most 
casual visitors cannot fail to notice it, and the reason 
for this difference is nearly as obvious. The ordinary 
beach is mainly the waste of the sea-cliffs, whereas 
the lfning of the river's mouth consists for the most 
part of what the river has brought down and deposited. 
Some of this is comminuted hard palzozoic grit, 
mingled with not a little of the looser trias, or upper 
new sandstone. But the denudation of the greensand, 
of which, as we shall find, both Haldon and the 
Blackdowns have an ample supply, must have proceeded 
more rapidly, and therefore, it is to be supposed, has 
contributed a larger proportion of silt. The conse- 
quence is that we meet with Blackdown once more on 
the south-east coast of Devon, where it is doomed 
to the same ignominious fate that has overtaken the 
submerged forests of the rude northern coast. The 
late Mr. Downes summed up the matter very pleasantly 
as follows: 

“ Nature, eschewing her usual tortuous ways, has by 
simple water-carriage turned an old littoral deposit 
into a new one. The difference is mainly this: The 


6 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


moorland solitude is exchanged for the seaside watering- 
place and its two lines of railway, between which 


The stately ships go on 
To their haven under the hill; 


while the naturalist, instead of looking for Cardium 
hillanum and Mactra angulata amid furze-brake and 
heather, picks up Cardium edule and Mactra solida 
amid bladder-wrack and bathing-machines.” 

Before we proceed further with our geological studies, 
we think it is quite time that we scotched that base 
calumny on the beauty of the neighbourhood. Having 
no wish to pose as quixotically tender on the subject, 
we may at once concede that the broad flat tops, 
in themselves, make no strong appeal to the zsthetic 
faculties ; and, more than that, the going, whether by 
road or across country, is none too easy. Nevertheless, 
Blackdown has undeniable charms, which lie partly 
in its wider prospects and partly in its delectable 
valleys. To look down from the high land over the 
rich vale of the Culm towards Uffculme is to fancy 
yourself in Elysium or, at all events, in an earthly 
paradise. Not less pleasing is the broad and fruitful 
valley of the Otter to the west of Honiton. The 
vantage-ground may be Hembury Hill, Coombe Raleigh 
Hill, Gittisham Hill, or Dumpdon Beacon. Speaking 
in geological language, Dumpdon Beacon is an outlying » 
fragment of the cretacean, or chalky, plain rising amid 
the undulating triassic ground, and, owing to its isolation, 
- makes a striking feature in the landscape. Similar 
fragments are Shute and Dalwood Hills in the Yarty 
valley, which is extremely pretty. The same com- 
pliment may be paid to the Sid valley and the little 


THE BLACKDOWN RANGE Z 


valley of Branscombe, although here we seem to be 
getting far away from what is commonly understood 
by the Blackdown Hills. 

Return, then, to Blackborough Beacon, or Hembury 
Fort, and you will find extended before you a panorama 
embracing practically the whole country from sea to 
sea. Hence you may trace the coast-line of the English 
Channel, save for a portion hidden by Woodbury Hill, 
from Budleigh Salterton to Babbacombe. In the 
opposite direction the waves of the Bristol Channel 
are not visible, but that is the fault of the Quantocks 
and the cliffs of Watchet, which emerge, so to speak, 
just in time to shut off the view. To the north-east 
you catch glimpses of Exmoor, and far away to the 
south-west, like an enchanted land, appear the shadowy 
outlines of mountainous Dartmoor. Gazing on this 
magnificent scene, that enthusiastic Devonian, Mr. 
W. H. Hamilton Rogers, gave free expression to the 
poetic feelings it is so well fitted to inspire : 

The broad Atlantic bends before thy throne, 
Its rocky footstool with white lips hath kist, 
Where, granite-brow’d, thou sit’st in grandeur lone, 
Thy temples wreathed with heaven’s unsalted mist. 
Feet in the brine, and face veiled by the cloud, 
And vesture still by changing Nature wrought ; 
Titan of earth and sky, silent and proud, 
Even beauty, kneeling, hath her homage brought: 
Time as a shadow sweeps across thy plains, 
Leaving no record of his printless feet; 
Thy glances follow, as one who disdains 
To stop a foe ’tis aimless all to meet; 


And all our generations come and go, 
As snowflakes on thy shoulders, melting slow. 


We have described the appearance of Blackdown, 
with its projecting spurs and intersecting valleys, as seen 


8 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


from rival heights, but hitherto we have said nothing 
of the aspect it presents to the low-lying country 
which lies like a sea around it, and which the geologist 
knows as the triassic area. Contemplated from this 
inferior region, the long level outlines lose something 
of their rigidity, and the scenery acquires a greater 
diversity. Depressed peaks with gentle slopes falling 
away on either side now alternate with stretches of 
flat summit flanked by. less elevated terraces. This 
is really an ocular illusion, for while perhaps there 
is a slight undulation, the effect is due far more to 
the irregular configuration of the table-land, which 
produces a tricky perspective. The advanced portions 
show as peaks or plateaux, according as they are 
viewed directly or obliquely, while the parts which 
recede look as if they were much lower. 

It would be paradoxical and absurd to speak of 
the Blackdown Hills as wooded, but the slopes of the 
pretty coombes near Hemyock and Dunkeswell are 
clothed with plantations, which form an agreeable 
contrast with the generally bare summits. Then, too, 
there are striking atmospheric effects. Referring to 
the pits and grubbings for scythe-stones, to the north 
of Broadhembury, Mr. Ussher calls attention to the 
way in which the patches of pale buff sand exposed 
here and there on the slope catch the fugitive gleams 
of light, which they reflect with wonderful brilliancy. 
Elsewhere he observes : “ The slopes of the Blackdowns 
often present most beautiful contrasts of light and 
shade, as when their contour is veiled in one of those 
tender hazy tints that the humid atmosphere of Devon 
so often imparts to distant ‘objects, and the light from 
a rifted cloud streams bright on some grassy slope, 


From a drawing by Frits Althaus. 


BEACON HILL. 


THE BLACKDOWN RANGE 9 


or kisses the hillside with a subdued beam, whose 
borders melt away in bluish or purplish greys.” 

Such treats are the free gifts of Nature, but man 
also, though by mere accident and as the result of 
strictly practical operations, brings to pass at a certain 
season—namely, in the spring—a superb pyrotechnic 
display. There is some amount of furze on the 
Blackdowns, and plenty of grass, and these are things— 
the uninitiated would hardly suspect it—which benefit by 
being burnt. It serves them, in fact, as a sort of annual 
“cure.” So there has been established a pleasant 
custom whereby gorse fires are for a short time of 
daily occurrence. The reflection spreads around for 
miles, and in some neighbourhoods people not in the 
secret are alarmed by what they suppose to be big 
farm-fires. At Culmstock they know better, and there 
at times the scene is magnificent. The adjacent hills 
seem one mass of flame, often no fewer than five— 
Hackpen Hill; Beacon Hill, Hillmoor, Sampford Hill, 
and Maidendown—burning fiercely at the same time ; 
and the village is lit up with reflections from the nearer 
heights. Such a spectacle will live long in the memory 
of any one privileged to witness it; and as the late 
Archbishop was doubtless of the number, we should 
think that the experience was one which came back 
to his mind most forcibly in visiting and meditating 
on his Blackdown home. The custom of burning 
moors, by the way, is known in Devonshire parlance 
as “swaling.” 

The occurrence of the suffix “pen” in “ Hackpen” 
deserves notice, as there are other “pens” in the 
neighbourhood. Three miles away is Upcot Pen, and 
about midway between them is what is now generally 


IO EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


described as Blackborough Beacon. The picturesque 
little knoll, however, has an older name, which is still 
not quite forgotten; and this older name is “ Mortal 
Pen.” Now these are all projecting spurs, and, having 
regard to the exposed positions, which would have 
been utterly unsuitable for folding sheep, we are driven 
back on the conclusion that the term is just the well- 
known Keltic word for “head.” Mortal Pen supplies 
one more proof of the unwisdom of prophesying with- 
out knowledge. Not very long ago there circulated in 
the neighbourhood—we doubt if it does still—an old 
couplet, which ran thus: 


When Mortal Pen Beacon sinks under the hill, 
Then, I reckon, the whole of the world shall be still. 


This may have been merely a poetical rendering of a 
much commoner proverb, “ When the sky falls, we shall 
catch rooks,” and expressed the rhymester’s conception 
of an extremely improbable event, but there is a weird- 
ness and mystery about this utterance which takes it 
quite out of the category of common sayings, and 
does infinite credit to the unknown seer. Unfortunately 
for both seer and saying, Mortal Pen Beacon as sunk 
under the hill. At all events, the outlier has subsided 
to a lower level than the main mass, and this, while 
admitting the convenient ambiguity of the oracle, we 
take to be the meaning of the fateful words. What 
has occurred to bring about this curious state of things ? 
The answer is as follows : 

Two or three generations ago there seems to be no 
doubt that Blackborough (or Mortal Pen) Beacon was 
of the same height as the adjacent table-land, the 
proof being that boys used to survey the table-land 


THE BLACKDOWN RANGE II 


from the fir-trees growing on the “pen.” Mr. Downes, 
who visited and reported on the locality in 1880, averred 
that he had abundant concurrent testimony that from 
this point it was possible to see as far as a place called 
Hanger Hedge, more than a mile distant to the south- 
east. Then it was found that Mortal Pen contained 
whetstones, and the auri sacra fames, which has been 
accountable for so many acts of desecration, urged 
the inhabitants of Poncheydown to make an organised 
attack on the Beacon, which they completely disem- 
bowelled, boring a tunnel right through the middle of 
it. The inevitable result was a settling of the ground, 
which, it may be, is still in progress. Even then they 
were not satisfied. At the same time that these in- 
dustrious vandals turned the hill inside out, they stripped 
it of its heather and sward, which had served as its 
external protection, and laid bare its surface with the 
plough. The soil being light and sandy, and lying 
on a steep slope, is in consequence washed away in 
large quantities by the rains. While these two causes 
are productive of the same result, it is the settling of 
the ground, consequent on the many pits and shafts 
which have penetrated its interior, and of which, in 
numerous cases, no trace has been left, that has cul- 
minated in the miracle whereby Mortal Pen has lost 
quite thirty feet of its height. From the tops of its 
fir-trees nothing can any longer be seen of the adjacent 
table-land, nothing even of its surface; and in that 
sense Mortal Pen Beacon has sunk beneath the hill. 

At the base of the Blackdown beds at the whetstone 
pits we find about twenty-five feet of homogeneous 
rusty-coloured rocksand. Above this rocksand lie the 
beds quarried for whetstones, perhaps about twenty-five 


I2 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCITBISHOP TEMPLE 


feet thick, leaving another twenty-five feet or so for 
the superincumbent chert and flint. Dr. Fitton thus 
divides the middle beds or zones: 

Reddish sandrock. 

“Fine vein.” Concretions of firm consistence, used 
for scythe-stones. Two inches to one foot. 

“Top sandrock.” Sand with irregular concretions ; 
of no use. Three to four feet. 

“Gutters.” Concretions of stone in four or five 
courses in the sand. This bed is most commonly used 
for scythe-stones. Three to five feet. 

“Burrows.” Stone and sand of the same kind, but 
used only for building. Two to three feet. 

“Bottom stones.” A range of concretions affording 
excellent scythe-stones. Two to six inches ; sometimes 
as much. as five feet. 

“Rocksand.” Chiefly sand with fewer concretions ; 
of no use. Four feet. 

“Soft vein.” Concretions which afforded excellent 
scythe-stones. Two to six inches. 

Another authority observes: “ Lithologically, the 
Blackdown Hills may be said to consist of (1) an im- 
persistent capping of chalk flints in a clayey matrix ; 
(2) chalk beds of varying thickness; (3) greensand, 
containing highly fossiliferous bands with concretions, 
the whole being very nearly horizontally stratified.” 
Although we have ourselves employed the term “ green- 
sand ” for the sake of convenience, this being a technical 
expression, we do not on that account commit ourselves 
to any opinion of its appropriateness. Any Blackdown 
man will testify that the so-called greensand is yellow ; 
and exception was taken to the term by the late Sir 
Roderick Murchison, who wittily remarked that he had 


THE BLACKDOWN RANGE 13 


only two objections to the name—firstly, that the 
deposits:so called were not green ; and, secondly, that 
they were not sazd. Mr. Downes, however, maintained 
that locally there was some justification for the term 
from the presence of chloritous grains in what he will 
not allow to be other than sand. He points out also 
that moisture and ferruginous bands have much to 
do with variations of colour. 

“The physical features,” he continues, “are those 
which the greensand of the western counties almost 
invariably exhibits. Blackdown may still be called 
table-land, though it is deeply furrowed by streams, 
which cut right through the greensand to the red marl 
beneath. Its outline is very irregular, but the practised 
eye can easily trace it at a distance of many miles. 
From the fact that it yields to pluvial denudations far 
more readily than the red marl, it shows, where it caps 
the red marl, a steeper slope than that of the underlying 
deposit. There is generally also a difference in the 
character of the vegetation. Both these features are 
well exhibited in the country around Sidmouth. The 
observer standing on Salcombe Hill-may trace the line 
of junction ata glance, looking inland along escarpments 
and outliers, and then verifying his observation in the 
coast sections below. The peculiarity of outline is 
rather obscured in the region of the Kentisbeare and 
Broadhembury whetstones by the talus of refuse which 
has been shot out of them, but it is clearly traceable 
again to the north at Hackpen, and at Culmstock Beacon.” 

Mention of the “talus of refuse” brings us back to 
the fact that the greensand beds are highly fossiliferous. 
This is not the place for an exhaustive list of the fossils 
discovered in them, and from a scientific point o view 


I4 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


it is much to be lamented that no attempt was made 
to assign them to their respective zones until Mr. 
Downes arrived during the last throes of the industry. 
The method of collecting Blackdown fossils was of the 
most haphazard description. Many years ago, when the 
operations at the whetstone pits were in full swing, 
it would have been possible with care and diligence 
to establish a valuable system of classification, but 
almost invariably—perhaps, after all, there was no 
help for it—collectors did not obtain their specimens 
on the spot, but purchased them from the quarrymen. 
The latter soon recognised that there was a market 
for the abundant fossil fauna, so wonderfully preserved 
in chalcedony. So when’ a quarryman, driving out 
a barrowful of refuse, reached the light, he looked to 
see whether there was a sufficient number of fossils, 
and those in good enough preservation, to make it 
worth his while to put them aside. Should that prove 
to be the case, he would thrust them in his coat pocket, 
breeches-pockets, dinner-basket, and indeed any place 
where they would be safe for the moment. By-and-by 
the hour arrived for leaving work and going home, 
when the valuable contents would be transferred to 
the pig’s bucket or an old hat, such being the recognised 
cabinets for articles of vertu. After a while perhaps 
the same quarryman meets with another find, or, it 
may be, several in another zone, in another pit, and in 
another part of the hill. However, the various fossils 
are all consigned to the same pig’s bucket, until it is 
too full to contain more, and all the old hats and 
bonnets in the house are in a state of similar confusion. 
When at length the collector appeared, the quarryman 
himself would have found it difficult to remember where 


THE BLACKDOWN RANGE 15 


he had dug out particular specimens. The collector 
probably never thought of asking. Delighted to secure 
the precious hoard, for which he speedily found room 
in his portmanteau, he hastened on his way, and the 
quarryman, now that he had the jingling perquisite, 
saw no reason for detaining him. 

Blackborough is a microscopical parish, four miles 
south of Culmstock. So small is it that it does not 
appear in some maps of the county, and in many © 
respects it may be considered a dependency of Kentis- 
beare, itself not over populous. Half a century ago, 
we are informed, the incumbent was an Oxford first- 
class man named Thompson, who read with pupils; 
and among the latter was the well-known humorist, Sir 
F. C. Burnand, of Punch, and the late Mr. James 
Payn. In the old days all the grindery for miles 
came from this neighbourhood, the name given to it 
being “Devonshire batts”; and for this reason the 
Blackdowns were commonly referred to as _ the 
“Scythe-stone Hills.” 

The whetstone pits are situated close to Blackborough 
Church, and extend as far as Hembury Fort, a distance 
of a mile and a half. As we have intimated, the stones 
suitable for sharpening scythes are embedded in sand, 
which, as we are no longer talking in the dialect of 
science, we shall venture to describe as yellow. To give 
the raw stones a plain face women chipped and “yowed” 
them with a rubber—z.., another stone—having first 
placed them in a tub of water to soften them and 
render them more responsive to the hewing process. 
A stone twelve inches in length would be considered 
valuable, while large stones, ineligible as grindery, were 
named “ builders’ stones.” The galleries were propped 


16 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


up with posts, and at intervals there were “ thirt-holes,” 
where a whetstoner would stop and draw up his barrow, 
to allow another to pass. The country was simply 
honeycombed with these galleries, so that it resembled 
a big warren. It was a dangerous locality to traverse 
by night, as a man might fall into a pit, and never 
come out alive. If any of the whetstoners got buried in 
the sand, his comrades scooped him out with their hands. 

For the inhabitants generally, and for occasional 
visitors, there is no more healthy neighbourhood than 
the Blackdowns. The elevated situation, the breezes 
fresh as ever swept over cliff or moorland, and the 
springs of pure water gushing out at the junction of 
the red marl and yellow sand combine to render these 
hills a perfect sanatorium. It was far different with 
the whetstoners, whose occupation, unfortunately, was 
very unhealthy ; and few of those regularly employed 
in the industry lived to old age. The truth is, the fine 
silicious dust, resembling powdered glass, produced the 
same effects on the workpeople as are found among 
the needle-filers of the northern counties. The particles, 
flying from the chipping tool, were inhaled, and set up 
an irritation of the lungs, with the result that fine men 
often died of consumption before they had quite reached 
middle life. 

One of the most interesting things in Blackmore’s 
Perlycross is Dr. Fox’s account of his nocturnal visit 
to the whetstone pits. With sundry trifling omissions, 
for which we humbly apologise, the narrative is as 
follows : 

“From Priestwell [Prescott] I came back to Perlycross 
[Culmstock], and was going straight home to see about 
my letters, when I saw a man waiting at the cross-roads 


THE BLACKDOWN RANGE 17 


for me, to say that I was wanted at the whetstone pits, 
for a man had tumbled down a hole and broken both 
his legs. Without asking the name I put spurs to Old 
Rock and set off at a spanking pace for the whetstone 
pits, expecting to find the foreman there to show me 
where it was. It is a long roundabout way from our 
village, at least for any one on horseback, though not 
more than three miles perhaps in a straight line, because 
you have to go all round the butt of Hagdon [Hackpen] 
Hill, which no one would think of riding over in the 
dark. I should say it must be five miles at least from 
our cross-roads. 

“Old Rock was getting rather tired. However, we 
let no grass grow under our feet ; and dark as the lanes 
were, and wonderfully rough, even for this favoured 
county, I got to the pit at the corner of the hill as soon 
as a man could get there without breaking his neck. 
Well, you know what a queer sort of place it is. I had 
been there about a year ago. But then it was daylight ; 
and that makes all the difference. I am not so very 
fidgety where I go, when I know that a manis in agony, 
but how to get along there in the dark, with the white 
grit up to my horse’s knees, and black pine barring out 
the moonshine, was—I don’t mind confessing it—a thing 
beyond me. And the strangest thing of all was, that 
nobody came near me. I had the whole place to 
myself, so far as I could see—and I did not want it. 

“T sat on Old Rock, and I had to sit close, for the 
old beauty’s spirit was up, in spite of all his weariness. 
What got into his old head, who shall say? But I 
failed to see the fun of it, as he did. There was all 
the white stuff that comes out of the pits, like a great 
cascade of diamonds, glittering in the level moonlight, 

2 


18 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


with broad bars of black thrown across it by the pines, 
all trembling, and sparkling, and seeming to move. 
Those things tell upon a man somehow, and he seems 
to have no right to disturb them. But I felt that I 
was not brought here for nothing, and began to get 
vexed at seeing nobody. So I set up a shout, with a 
hand to my mouth, and then a shrill whistle between 
my nails. The echo came back very punctually; but 
nothing: else, except a little gliding of the shale, and 
shivering of black branches. Then I jumped off my 
horse, and made him fast to a tree, and scrambled along 
the rough bottom of the hill. 

“There are eight pits on the south side, and seven on 
the north, besides the three big ones at the west end of 
the hill, which are pretty well worked out according to 
report. Their mouths are pretty nearly at a level about 
a hundred feet below the chine of the hill. But the 
tumbledown—I forget what the proper name is—the 
excavated waste, that comes down, like a great beard, 
to the foot where the pine trees stop it 

“«Brekkles is their name for it, interrupted Mr. 
Mockham ; ‘dvekkles or brokkles—I am not sure which. 
You know they are a colony of Cornishmen.’ 

“Yes, and a strange, outlandish lot, having nothing 
to do with the people around, whenever they can help 
it. It is useless for any man to seek work there. They 
push him down the brekkles—if that is what they call 
them. However, they did not push me down, although 
I made my way up to the top, when I had shouted 
in vain along the bottom. I could not get up the 
stuff itself; I knew better than to make the trial. But 
I circumvented them at the further end; and there 
I found a sort of terrace, where a cart could get along 


THE BLACKDOWN RANGE 19g 


from one pit-mouth to another. And from mouth to 
mouth I passed along this rough and stony gallery, 
under the furzy crest of hill, without discovering 
a sign of life, while the low moon across the broad 
western plain seemed to look up rather than down 
at me. Into every black pit-mouth, broad or narrow, 
bratticed with timber, or arched with flint, I sent a 
loud shout, but the only reply was like the dead 
murmuring of a shell. And yet all the time I felt 
somehow as if I were watched by invisible eyes, as a 
man upon a cliff is observed from the sea. 

“This increased my anger, which was rising at the 
thought that some one had made a great fool of me; 
and forgetting all the ludicrous side of the thing— 
as a man out of a temper is apt to do—I mounted 
the most conspicuous pile at the end of the hill, and 
threw up my arms, and shouted to the moon, ‘Is this 
the way to treat a doctor?’ 

“The distant echoes answered, ‘ Doctor! Doctor!’ 
as if they were conferring a degree upon me, and that 
made me laugh, and grow rational again, and resolve 
to have one more try instead of giving in. So I 
climbed upon a ridge, where I could see along a chine, 
through patches of white among the blackness of the 
furze ; and in the distance there seemed to be a low 
fire smouldering. For a moment I doubted about going 
on, for I had heard that these people were uncommonly 
fierce with any one they take for a spy upon them; 
and here I was entirely at their mercy. But, whenever 
I have done a cowardly thing, I have always been 
miserable afterwards ; and so I went cautiously forward 
towards the fire, with a sharp look-out and my hunting- 
crop ready. Suddenly a man rose in front of me, 


20 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


almost as if he jumped out of the ground, a wild-looking 
fellow stretching out both arms. I thought I was in 
for a nasty sort of fight, and he seemed a very ugly 
customer. But he only stepped back, and made some 
inquiry, so far as I could gather from his tone, for his 
words were beyond my intelligence. 

“Then I told him who I was, and what had brought 
me there; and he touched his rough hat, and seemed 
astonished. He had not the least difficulty in making 
out my meaning, but I could not return the compliment. 
‘Naw hoort along o’ yussen, was his nearest approach 
to English ; which I took to mean, ‘ No accident among 
us’; and I saw by his gestures that he meant this. 
In spite of some acquaintance with the Mendip miners 
and pretty fair mastery of their brogue, this whetstoner 
went beyond my linguistic powers, and I was naturally 
put out with him. Especially when in reply to my 
conclusion that I had been made a fool of, he answered, 
‘Yaw, yaw, as if the thing was done with the greatest 
ease, and must be familiar to me. But in his rough 
style he was particularly civil, as if he valued our 
profession, and was sorry that any one should play with 
it. He seemed to have nothing whatever to conceal ; 
and so far as I could interpret, he was anxious to 
entertain me as his guest, supposing that time permitted 
it. But I showed him where my horse was, and he 
led me to him bya better way, and helped me with 
him, and declined the good shilling that I offered him. 
This made me consider him a superior sort of fellow ; 
though to refuse a shilling shows neglected education.” - 

This description is just a little fanciful. It is not 
true, for instance, that the whetstoners were a colony 
of Cornish people. There may perhaps have been 


THE BLACKDOWN RANGE 21 


Cornishmen among them, as was only probable in a 
flourishing mining industry, but the bulk of the 
whetstoners were natives. Nor, again, were they of 
that savage and exclusive temper which Blackmore 
represents. They certainly intermarried with the in- 
habitants of the neighbouring villages, for a Culmstock 
man, eighty-six years of age, informs me that both his 
aunts married whetstoners. He himself, in his visits 
to the pits, saw no signs of any extraordinary ferocity. 
Country-folk generally were rougher in their habits 
than they are now, and there was often a degree of 
rivalry between Perlycombes and Perlycrosses, but the 
whetstoners were decidedly not regarded as outlaws 
and foreigners. There are only a few of them now, 
these being employed by a Mr. Redwood. Practically, 
the industry has been extinct for many years, for the 
sufficient reason that whetstones of a suitable quality 
have become extremely scarce. Whilst they held out, 
the business is said to have been a paying affair. The 
whetstones were usually disposed of to an agent at 
Honiton, but at the many fairs held in the neigh- 
bourhood the whetstoners were their own merchants. 
At Tiverton fair, for instance, they might be seen 
standing behind their wares, which were erected in 
pyramidal form, and chaffering with the farmers and 
others who came to buy. 

Lastly, a word as to the iron pits. Several local 
writers have referred to the existence of pits of various 
sizes and depths to be met with on the wild tops of 
many of the high hills in the district. Some of these 
pits have been obliterated in the process of cultivation, 
but not all. They occur on the Blackdowns, Ottery 
East Hill, and other places ; Dunkeswell Common being 


22 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


as good a spot as any. As has been said, the pits 
are of various sizes, they are very irregular, and, for 
the most part, contiguous. There are instances of pits 
large enough to accommodate a horse and carriage. 
We have seen that above the greensand is a stratum 
of flints and clay, and above this a subsoil bed. It 
is in this last that iron ore—the sort known as surface 
iron—is found. It is odd that they should have dug 
so many separate pits or “pockets,” but this was the 
process. The smelting was carried on elsewhere. 
Great quantities of scoria have been discovered at 
different spots in the Blackdown country. There is 
a large heap at Clivehayes Farm, Churchstanton ; and 
formerly a similar quantity was to be seen at Bower- 
hayes Farm, near Dunkeswell Abbey. Smaller heaps 
might be found in a field at Tidborough, near Hemyock, 
and at Kentisbeare, Culmstock, Uffculme etc. These 
are supposed to be indications of the enterprise of the 
Romans, or of Romanised Britons. The Blackdowns, 
perhaps, were too far from the sea to attract the 
attention of the Phoenicians, the great metallurgists 
of antiquity, but seeing that traces of them have been 
discovered as far inland as Rhodesia, we cannot be 
sure that they did not try their luck here, coming up 
from Sidmouth or Seaton. 


CHAPTER Tl 
FROM AGE TO AGE 


T the close of the preceding chapter we slid, half- 
unconsciously, into history, or archeology, but 
before alluding to either Roman or Phcenician, we 
referred more than once to Hembury Fort, which for 
various reasons is the most remarkable of the many 
“castles” with which the country is studded. This, 
then, shall serve as our starting-point in the journey 
through the ages. 

Hembury Fort surprises not so much by its size as 
by its situation and strength, and cannot be looked 
at without admiration. Travellers on the London and 
South-Western Railway on their way to town will not fail 
to observe on their left the bold eminence crowned with 
huge earthworks, which, if they have good sight, they 
will likewise be able totrace. The fort is distant some 
three miles from Honiton, and appears to have been one 
of a chain of fastnesses wherewith the old inhabitants of 
Devon defended their borderland against the incursions of 
their Dorset neighbours, the Duotriges, with whom they 
probably lived in a state of tribal warfare. The ancient 
British chief who fixed his eyry on this elevated spot 
must certainly be credited with excellent judgment, 
as it was not only a difficult place to storm, but an 

23 


24 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


admirable look-out station commanding the plain over 
which the enemy would have to advance. Hembury 
Fort is of ovate form, and measures 400 yds. in length 
and 130 yds. in breadth. 

Was this fort ever occupied by the ema We 
cannot be sure. In the J/ézmerarzes of Antoninus and 
Richard of Cirencester mention occurs of a Roman 
post called Moridunum, which lay between Durnovaria, 
or Dorchester, on the east, and Isca, or Exeter, on the 
west. The name “Moridunum” has been considered 
to be a Latinisation of the more ancient British form 
Moéry-dun, signifying a town or fortress on a hill by 
the sea, and therefore Camden, Gale, Stukeley, and other 
authorities agree in preferring High Peak Hill. Apart 
from this supposed derivation, there is nothing to choose 
between the two sites, for both Hembury and High 
Peak Hill tally with the /inerarces, and are at the 
required distance from Exeter—fifteen Roman miles. 
Mr. Hutchinson, who at first supported the traditional 
opinion, subsequently hit upon another derivation— 
More-y-dun. More simply means “great”; and the 
name Move-y-dun, standing for the Great Castle, or 
Town, or Hill Fortress will very well apply to Hembury 
Fort. It is expedient to remember, however, that these 
time-honoured remains are scattered abundantly over 
the hill-tops that frown on the vale of Honiton—pro- 
bably no district in England is richer in them. Almost 
every swelling prominence has its entrenched fortress, 
and some of these fastnesses are so extensive that a 
small army would have been required to defend them 
against attack on every side. Possibly therefore there 
may be other claimants to the honour of representing 
Moridunum, though, estimating by the test of distance, 


FROM AGE TO AGE 25 


the chances lie between Hembury Fort and High Peak 
Hill. If it had been the latter, perhaps Antoninus 
would have stated that it was a maritime station, instead 
of leaving this to be inferred from dubious etymological 
evidence.. 

If ever there were Druids in Devon, which Mr. R. N. 
Worth has taught us to question, Hembury Fort 
must have formed part of the military preparations of 
which those hierarchs were excused from any share. 
Antiquaries of the old school will rejoice to hear that 
there formerly existed on Uffculme Down a precious 
Druidical relic—or, possibly, their joy will be overcome 
by grief at its disappearance. We refer to a small 
enclosure believed to have been ancient, and known by 
the name of “Pixie Garden.” It was twenty or thirty 
yards square, and in the middle, according to an old 
man called Baker, was a “mump,” or mound. The 
enclosure was divided into four compartments by inter- 
secting hedges, and Lysons, who remembered the place 
well and had often jumped over the hedges when a boy, 
speaks of a mound in each compartment. These were 
levelled at the beginning of the last century by the 
cultivation of the land. Pennant in his Scotch Tour 
describes square enclosures, in which the ceremonies of 
the Bel-tein were practised on the first of May, the fire 
being in the centre. Those who are unwilling to share 
Mr. Worth’s heresy will no doubt trace a connection 
between the northern and southern evidences of the 
ancient cult. 

It is not worth while to linger further over this obscure 
period, or to ask whether they were long-headed or 
round-headed men who constructed these forts and 
officiated in these groves. Rather let us pass to the 


26 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


somewhat distant era when the last Roman legionary 
had quitted these shores, and the land had become 
Christianised. In Tennyson’s /dylls of the King the 
reader will find the following lines, which are more 
pertinent than he will be inclined at first to suspect : 


The brave Geraint, a Knight of Arthur's court, 
A tributary prince of Devon, one 

Of that great Order of the Table Round, 

Had married Enid, Yniol’s only child, — 


And loved her, as he loved the light of Heaven. 
* * * * * 


And Enid loved the Queen, and with true heart 
Adored her as the stateliest and the best 

And loveliest of all women upon earth. 

And seeing them so tender and so close, 

Long in their common love rejoiced Geraint. 
But when a rumour rose about the Queen, 
Touching her guilty love for Lancelot, 

Tho’ yet there lived no proof, nor yet was heard 
The world’s loud whisper breaking into storm, 
Not less Geraint believed it; and there fell 

A horror on him, lest his gentle wife, 

Thro’ that great tenderness for Guinevere, 

Had suffer’d, or should suffer, any taint 

In nature: wherefore going to the King, 

He made this pretext that his kingdom lay 
Close on the borders of a territory 

Wherein were bandit earls, and caitiff knights, 
Assassins, and all flyers from the hand 

Of justice, and whatever loathes a law: 

And therefore till the King himself should please 
To cleanse this common sewer of all his realm, 
He craved a fair permission to depart, 

And there defend his marches; and the King 
Mused for a little on his plea, but, last, 
Allowing it, the Prince and Enid rode 

And fifty knights rode with them, to the shores 
Of Severn, and they past to their own land. 


Speaking of this prince, Dr. Guest writes: “In the 


FROM AGE TO AGE 27 


days of Geraint, Domnonia, though stripped of half 
its provinces, must have been, both in power and dignity, 
the first of British kingdoms” ; and there has been pre- 
served a famous letter written to this ruler by Aldhelm, 
abbot of Malmesbury, in 1705, the year in which the 
latter was summoned by Ine, King of Wessex, to be the 
first Bishop of Sherborne. The Latin inscription is 
very remarkable, and has been thus rendered by Dr. 
Guest: “To the most glorious lord of the western 
kingdom, whom—He that searches hearts and weighs 
our actions is my witness—I love with brotherly affec- 
tion; to King Gerontius, and at the same time to all 
the priests of the Lord scattered throughout Domnonia, 
Aldhelm, abbot, etc., sends greeting in the Lord.” 

After stating that he derives his authority from a 
synod of priests drawn from nearly the whole of Britain 
and assembled for the purpose, he goes on to say that 
rumours have reached the synod that the priests of 
Domnonia fell very far short of the Catholic faith, thereby 
giving rise to grave schism and cruel scandal. The two 
points of failure were refusal to submit to the tonsure 
of St. Peter, chief of the apostles, and the non-observance 
of the rule of the Council of Nice respecting the 
observance of Easter. The reasons given for adopting 
the Roman tonsureare: first, that it was a commemora- 
tion of Christ’s crown of thorns; secondly, that it was 
a means whereby the priests under the New Testament 
might be distinguished from those under the Old; 
thirdly, that Roman prisoners of war were commonly 
crowned with a garland. The mode of computing the 
fall of Easter is explained with sufficient learning, and 
enforced by an appeal to St. Augustine, after which 
follows a passage of more interest to us, since it throws 


28 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


light on the relations between the Welsh and English 
churches at the commencement of the eighth century : 

“ What a wide departure is it from the Catholic faith 
and from Gospel tradition, that the priests of the 
Demetz [Welsh] on the other side of the Severn Sea, 
priding themselves on the nicety of their private and 
personal living, shrink in abhorrence from communion 
with us. So much so that they will not condescend 
to join us in divine service in church, nor to take their 
meals with us side by side in friendly fellowship at table. 
They even cast away the fragments of their food, and 
the broken meat from their tables, to be devoured by 
hungry dogs and filthy swine. Their vessels and cups 
they throw down, to get such cleansing and purification 
as are to be had from the sand and dirt of the floor, 
or the ashes of the fireplace. They offer us no friendly 
salutation, no kiss of holy brotherhood is given, as 
according to the apostolic precept—‘Greet ye one 
another with a holy kiss’ No water and napkin is 
provided for cleansing the hands, no basin for washing 
the feet; notwithstanding that the Saviour, having 
girded himself with a towel, washed the disciples’ feet, 
giving as an example ‘As I have done unto you, even 
so do ye unto others.’ Nevertheless, if any of us, that 
is to say, the Catholics, visit them for the purpose of 
taking up our abode with them, we are not admitted to 
the society of our guild [or convent] before we have 
passed forty days in penitence. In this respect they 
hold an unhappy resemblance to those heretics who 
make a profession of purity, that is tosay, of the cleanli- 
ness of the body.” 

He then implores the fraternity and beseeches them 
on bended knees, by their common hopes of a heavenly 


FROM AGE TO AGE 29 


kingdom, no longer to reject the teaching and decrees 
of the blessed Peter, or to despise the tradition of the 
Roman Church. Whether his previous irony and 
reproaches were calculated to win them or bring about 
a reconciliation, must be a matter of opinion. 

However, the controversy of theologians was soon 
to yield, for a time at least, to the clash of swords. The 
year 710 is one of the landmarks in local history, for 
then “ Ine and Nun, his kinsman, fought against Geraint 
King of the Welsh (Weala).” In the passage above 
quoted Tennyson, it will be observed, speaks of “ this 
pretext,” but the allusion to bandit earls, and caitiff 
knights, and assassins, whether it be intended so or 
not, may be read as a poetic version of the initial 
skirmishes preceding the general advance and victory 
of the West Saxons under their great King Ine. The 
alien hosts were opposed by “the most glorious lord 
of the western realm,’ Geraint, and the final battle was 
fought on the crest of the Blackdown Hills, when the 
King of Wessex defeated the King of Dyfnaint (Devon) 
and Geraint and his followers turned their faces from 
the English, and fled, leaving their arms and spoils 
to the pursuers. In this desperate encounter one of 
Ine’s ealdormen, Sigvald or Higebald, was slain, and 
possibly, though there is no mention of such an 
occurrence, his kinsman, Nun or Nunna, also. 

About two miles and a quarter east of the Wellington 
Monument, and not far from Forches Corner (so called 
because a gallows—/urce—once stood there), was to 
be seen in 1836 a large tumulus, known as Noon’s 
Barrow, which is believed by a competent authority 
to have marked the site of Nun’s burial-place, and 
that of the great battle. Noon’s Barrow has vanished 


30 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


in all but name, and in the same manner Simonsborough, 
a spot about half a mile south-east of the Wellington 
Monument, at a cross-roads on the brow of the hill, 
has lost the tumulus which caused it to be so designated. 
That such a tumulus existed, cannot well be doubted, for 
Simonsborough hamlet, Great and Little Simonsborough 
farms, Great Barrow Close and Little Barrow Close 
have all been named after it. Some antiquaries suspect 
that “Simon” is a corruption of “Sigvald,” the name 
of Ine’s man slain in fight, but, unless there has been 
some confusion, it is much more likely to represent 
“Siegmund.” This name is familiar to us from the 
Nibelungenlied, and who shall say that snatches of the 
old Germanic epics may not have been borne by Saxon 
adventurers to their new homes in the west? Still, 
this particular Siegmund had certainly no connection 
with the Blackdown Hills. According to tradition a 
British chieftain, Simond or Simmond, was killed in 
battle and buried on this spot; and it was the belief 
of the country people in the neighbourhood that the 
barrow could never be reduced in size, because if stones 
were removed from it, others by supernatural agency 
were put in their place. At length a hardened sceptic 
named James Bale resolved to subject this cherished 
faith to a practical test. The venerable legend was, 
as the result, found to be untenable, but the triumph 
over superstition involved the sacrifice of the ancient 
cairn, of which, as has been stated, there is no longer 
any trace. 

Now, the boundary between Devon and Somerset 
presents this peculiarity, that it does not, as in other 
cases, follow the watershed of the hills, but cuts off, 
as it were, the heads of three Devon streams—the 


FROM AGE TO AGE aE 


Yarty, the Otter, and the Culm. Why isthat? Probably 
because the limits of England and “Wales” remained 
fixed for fifty or sixty years after this battle, when the 
boundary line was drawn to the south of the fortress 
of Neroche, which must have been stormed by the 
Saxons, at the fords of Yarty, and Otter, and Culm, 
where it still lies. At the same time a rampart was 
thrown up by the conquered to mark the new limits ; 
and in those parts of the hill-country which are yet 
in their wild state can still be traced the old mound, 
with the ditch always to the north, proving it to have 
been a barrier raised by the south against a northern 
enemy. When the Saxons again advanced, it was 
probably along the line of the Devonshire Axe, and 
then they came to stay. By that time the boundary 
had become so firmly established that the Defnas, as 
the new settlers were called, adopted it as the dividing 
line between themselves and the Sumersztas, or people 
of Somerset. 

It is thought, however, that the Saxons obtained 
possession of Devon as much by colonisation as by 
conquest. Probably, from time to time, bodies of 
immigrants were allowed to enter the British kingdom, 
where they settled, forming their “tuns,” or clusters of 
residences, on the banks of streams. Whether they 
had to seek special leave from the British kings, whether 
they were subject to any duty or service in return for 
the privileges accorded them, are difficult questions, 
but that the fatal practice of admitting the foreigners 
prevailed, to the undoing of the more ancient inhabitants, 
seems in every way probable. How else can we account 
for the circumstance that in the year 700 there flourished 
in the city of Exeter a Saxon school capable of impart- 


32 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


ing adequate religious instruction to Winfrith, afterwards 
the great St Boniface, the apostle of the Germans ? 
“Far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife,” in a 
green combe at the source of the Culm, stands all that 
remains of Dunkeswell Abbey, which was founded by 
William Lord Brewer in 1201. Two years before, this 
great nobleman, as pious as he was rich, had purchased 
the manor of Dunkeswell from either Henry de la 
Pomeroy or William Fitzwilliam, who, “compelled 
by his necessities,” had mortgaged it to one Amadio, a 
Jew; and this, together with much other land in the 
neighbourhood, was given by the munificent baron to 
the new abbey, which was colonised from Ford, and 
by consequence Cistercian. The term “Cistercian” is 
derived from Cistertium, or Cisteaux, in the diocese 
of Chalons ; and the members of this order were called 
white monks from a white gown or cassock they wore 
at church. According to one authority they adopted 
this white habit in obedience to the command of the 
Blessed Virgin, who appeared to St. Bernard, the 
founder of a hundred and fifty houses ; and to her most 
of their monasteries, Dunkeswell among the rest, are 
dedicated. Referring to the particular vocation, the 
daily round and common task, of the Cistercian monk 
in the thirteenth century, Mr. Brooking-Rowe remarks 
that it must have required no small confidence in his 
powers of endurance when the novice took the vows 
that bound him for life to the austerities of the order. 
“The monasteries,” he says, “ were situated in secluded 
spots, so as to render any intercourse with the outside 
world difficult. The food of the inmates was of the 
plainest kind, silence was rigidly enforced, communica- 
tion within the walls was carried on mainly by signs, 


Ay aff 


Wai ' 


Mil i 
hice 
Misa 


From a drawing by Frits Althaus. 


THE RUINS, DUNKESWELL ABBEY, 


FROM AGE TO AGE a 


the fratry or day-room had no fireplace, and was 
exposed to the rigour of the weather, one end being 
left open to the air; and when the poor monk, after 
perchance his supper of fruit and herbs, sought his 
dormitory, the cold night air played about his hard 
couch, admitted by the slits in the long wall, unglazed 
and unshuttered, which served as windows. The stranger 
or wayfarer was hospitably treated, but not allowed to 
enter the refectory or cloister. Luxury, ease, and the 
ordinary comforts of life were frowned upon and for 
a long time banished. Labour and prayer, prayer and 
labour, alone occupied the thoughts of the Cistercians. 

“They were the farmers proper of the monastic 
orders. While other communities had their mills and 
granges, mainly for their own use, about them, the 
Cistercian made agriculture his business, and sent the 
product of his land forth for the use of the outer world. 
In every Cistercian house were two classes—the monks 
proper and the conversi, the masters and servants. 
Both classes took the vows; but the lives of the 
conversi were spent mainly in labour upon the farms 
and other menial work, performing such religious duties 
only as might reasonably be expected from lay-folk 
who had to obtain their livelihood by the sweat of their 
brow. They were the poorest of the poor, and often 
the vilest, and many sought the convent when no other 
door was open to them and death stared them in the 
face. Taken in hand by the monks, compelled to earn 
their bread, they soon became useful, and the outcast 
of society found in the Church a shelter denied them 
by the world.” 

Speaking of the principle on which the Cistercian 
made choice of a site, Mr. Brooking-Rowe observes : 


3 


34 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


“His habitation was far from the haunts of men, in 
a valley, and, as far as possible, in the narrowest part of 
it ; and close to a river the settlement was made. Insuch 
a situation in many a fertile spot throughout England 
the farmer-monk made his home, and the situation of this 
abbey (Dunkeswell) is very secluded, but very beautiful 
and very characteristic of a Cistercian selection. In 
five of such localities in our fair county (Buckfast, 
Buckland, Newenham, Ford, and Dunkeswell) members 
of the order, at varying intervals, took up their abode. 
The earliest house was founded in 1137, only nine 
years after the first—that of Waverley, in Surrey—was 
planted in England, and the remaining four were 
established at different times—one in the twelfth and 
the other three in the thirteenth century.” 

During the rule of Abbot Thomas, whose name occurs 
as early as 1253, the possessions of the monastery were 
greatly increased by exchanges and dealings with the 
Prior of St. John of Jerusalem; and later we find the 
abbey holding the manor of Broadhembury. Like 
other owners of property in those turbulent days, the 
monks did not enjoy their own in perfect security. 
The farmstead known as Dunkeswell Grange is situated 
on St. Cyres’ Hill, hard by the River Wolf; and a 
little to the north is Dunkeswell Turbary, which was 
also part of the abbey land, and where the hill-folk 
possessed the right of cutting turf. This was perhaps 
the principal scene of the agricultural operations 
carried on in connection with the monastery. But 
Dunkeswell Abbey doubtless had more than one 
grange. (A Cistercian abbey in Gloucestershire had 
ten granges in the parish of Margam alone, and 
many more outside.) One such grange, it is pretty 


FROM AGE TO AGE aS 


certain, was to be found on Hackpen Hill, close to 
Culmstock, for, as is shown by an ancient coroner’s 
roll, during the reign of Edward the First one John 
Cogan, of Uffculme, was ringleader in a violent trespass 
on the manor. The sacrilegious ruffians broke into 
the abbot’s houses and ejected the monks and conversi, 
or lay brethren, beat and wounded the abbot’s servants, 
drove out more than sixty oxen and twenty cows 
(with the result that two oxen perished), made off 
with the much-prized pitchforks, and committed other 
damage. 

This performance was pretty scandalous, and the 
monks might have claimed our entire sympathy were 
it not for the fact that they were themselves by 
no means immaculate. Preserved in Bishop Bronse- 
combe’s register is an interesting record showing 
the value they placed on holy things. It appears 
that the bishop’s predecessor, William Brewer (1224, 
1244), said to have been grandson of Lord Brewer 
the founder of the abbey, had made over to the, 
monks the parish church of St. David at “ Doddeton.” 
Although the building had been granted to their use, 
no doubt there had been a tacit assumption that, as 
religious men, they would not abuse the gift. But 
that is precisely what they did. They not only 
appropriated the land, but suppressed public worship, 
sold the church bells and cast out the fonts. In a 
word, they completely secularised the church, and 
thus rendered it available for any profane purpose 
they might find convenient. For these heinous acts 
they were very properly called to account, and having 
confessed their misdeeds and expressed themselves 
willing to make satisfaction, were ordered to restore 


36 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


the church to its proper rank, and provide for the 
celebration of divine service. They were empowered 
to take the rents and revenues, but it was stipulated 
in the episcopal ordinance that, if the land of the 
parish should fall into the hands of secular persons, 
service was to be performed by a secular priest. The 
date of this instrument is February, 1259. 

There has been some discussion as to the identity 
of “ Doddeton.” The word looks as if it might stand 
for Doddington, but apparently there is no place of 
that name on or near the Blackdowns. It is a fact, 
however, that the manor of “ Donitone” had been 
bestowed by William the Conqueror on the abbey 
of St. Michael in Peril of the Sea, in Normandy ; and 
was therefore, if we may venture the expression, in 
the ecclesiastical market. Moreover, at the time of 
the dissolution of the monasteries the place had a 
freechapel. The late Mr. J. B. Davidson was of opinion 
that the manor of Donitone occupied the western half 
to the parish of Yarcombe, where the name Den- 
nington occurs in connection with an estate called 
Dennington, a farm (Little Dennington), and Denning- 
ton Lane. 

From these evidences of unworthiness it is refreshing 
to turn to the simple piety of a Culmstock layman, 
John Prestecote, who died about 1412. Prestecote’s 
will contains some interesting items. He left two 
legacies—-one of a mark, or thirteen shillings and four- 
pence, and another (in a codicil) of sixty shillings— 
towards the cost of a bell in Culmstock Church, which 
bell, there is reason to surmise, still exists. The third 
bell in the tower, which is reputed to be oldest bell 
in the deanery, and, unlike the others, has never been 


FROM AGE TO AGE 37 


recast, bears the original Latin inscription, AVE MARIA 
GRATIA PLENA, with the monogram R. S. Now 
Prestecote gives directions that his body shall be 
buried in the chapel of the Blessed Mary at Culmstock 
—most likely a chantry within the walls of the church, 
to which he bequeaths many vestments, and ornaments, 
and books. Among the vestments was perhaps the 
ancient cope which hangs against the chancel wall. 
Similar gifts are bestowed on a chapel which he 
mentions in one place as his chapel ; and an idea prevails 
that traces of this building may be seen in the founda- 
tions of an old cottage at Prescott. 

The testator further directs that each chaplain present 
at his funeral shall receive sixpence—a larger sum 
then than now—and any that are blind twopence. Other 
amounts are devised to lazar or leper houses at Exeter, 
Totnes, Plympton, and Honiton—a circumstance which 
throws a strong but consolatory light on the ravages 
of that awful scourge in fair Devon. To his daughter 
Joan are bequeathed two oxen, two cows, and forty 
sheep, a bed suitable to her rank, and a best cloak 
of scarlet cloth lined with fur. To Walter Northcote, 
Prestecote leaves his steel armour, except his sword, 
with all his books on the law of land; and to the 
prioress of Polsloe, Exeter, his best silver cup with 
cover—called “ Franceys”—to remain at Polsloe Priory 
for ever, and be designated “ Prestecote” in memory 
of the donor. 

With reference to Prestecote’s sepulture, a curious 
discovery was made in the spring of 1903. Ata certain 
point the south wall of Culmstock Church projects two 
or three inches in an outward direction, and the Vicar 
(the Rev. T. S. Rundle), having long suspected that 


38 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


something was here built up, caused a portion of the 
stonework to be removed. The result was that part 
of an ancient monument, or handsome altar tomb, 
which must have extended two or three feet into the 
church, was brought to light. A recess corresponding 
to the arch over the tomb has since been made, and 
the only thing now visible is a portion of one of the 
ledges. For the information of visitors the vicar has 
posted the following notice in the church: 

“This stone was reopened to view on April 17th, 
1903, after having been built in and plastered over 
for nearly a century. It has been sadly mutilated, 
and the more important parts, including a figure of the 
person to whose memory it was built, have been entirely 
destroyed, together with the mouldings round the arch. 
Some fragments of stonework were found when the 
tomb was opened. The stone ledge now visible 
probably supported the upper part of the tomb. 

“It is not known to whose memory the tomb was 
erected, but it is conjectured that it may be the tomb 
of John Prestecote, of Prestecote, a wealthy parishioner. 
He was buried at Culmstock about 1412.” 

We must now proceed with our account of Dunkeswell 
Abbey, which flourished for nearly three hundred and fifty 
years, and probably during the later stages of its history 
underwent the same sort of changes which we find 
in other Cistercian establishments. As is well known, 
the zeal and activity of the order became greatly 
enfeebled by the wealth of the monks and the gradual 
abandonment of the austere life to which they had 
been originally attached. The lay brethren, or con- 
versi, were no longer welcome at the abbeys, farming 
was given up, and the granges and other lands leased 


FROM AGE TO AGE 39 


to secular holders. Thus, at the beginning of the 
sixteenth century the abbots had become great land- 
lords ; and, as was the custom of monastic dignitaries, 
the abbot of Dunkeswell had a town residence in 
Exeter, somewhere in the parish of St. Paul. The 
abbey adopted the arms of the founder, William Lord 
Brewer—two bends wavy; and the fine common seal, 
upwards of three inches long, represents the Blessed 
Virgin, with saints on either side, all under canopies. 
Unluckily there is only one impression of the seal 
in existence, and that very mutilated. Underneath 
the saint on the sinister side of the middle figure is 
a shield with the Brewer arms. There has been pre- 
served also an impression of the abbot’s counter-seal, 
which is of vesica shape and about one and three- 
quarters of an inch long. The abbot is represented in a 
standing posture, and holding his crosier in his right hand. 

The last abbot was John Ley. He was confirmed 
by the Suffragan Bishop of Exeter in 1529, and ten 
years later surrendered his house to the King’s Com- 
missioners. Altogether there were eight monks in the 
abbey at the time of the surrender, and with regard to 
two of them, something is known of their subsequent fate. 
John Gay was appointed on the dissolution perpetual 
curate of Sheldon, a former possession of the abbey ; 
and the abbot himself, on the death of Thomas Chard 
(or Tybbes), last abbot of Ford, in 1546, became vicar 
of the neighbouring parish of Payhembury. The annual 
revenue of the abbey had been nearly 4300. This, 
of course, was now confiscated, and the site of the 
monastery buildings, the home farm and mill, and other 
lands were granted to John Lord Russell. The tower 
of the church contained, at the dissolution, four bells 


40 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


of the value of £28 5s. These also passed to the new — 
owner of the abbey lands. As the entry on the subject 
expresses it with prosaic and business-like brevity : “My 
Lord of Bedford had the leade w™ the gifte of the 
lande,” and, ringing the changes on these words, 
Mr. Brooking-Rowe continues: “My Lord of Bedford 
took care to appropriate the lead, without reference 
to the preservation of the fabric, with everything else 
capable of being turned into money; and the grand 
buildings, for such they must have been, and the de- 
spoiled abbey soon shared the fate of many a stately 
monastery, for centuries the home of labour, thanks- 
giving, and prayer.” 

When we contemplate the vandalism involved in 
these reckless acts and yet more fatal neglect, we 
cannot restrain a feeling of indignation at the conduct 
of those responsible for them ; but that not insignificant 
body of our countrymen who look back with un- 
disguised sympathy to the medieval type of religion 
may be excused for entertaining even deeper sentiments. 
Something of the horror with which such proceedings 
inspire them is reflected in the beautiful lines, On the 
Dissolution of the Religious Houses, by the late Rev. 
J. M. Neale. The poem is too long to be quoted in 
its entirety ; the reader must therefore be content with 
excerpts. 


The Abbey Church is dedicate ! 
’Tis glorious to behold 

Tall arch, slim shaft, and goodly pier, 
And shrine that flames with gold. 

The rich deep hue of storied glass, 
The vaulting groin on high, 

The Rood Screen with its serges seven, 
And carvéd imagery : 


FROM AGE TO AGE 41 


Pier behind pier, and arch o’er arch, 
That lead both heart and view 

Where the high altar stands to close 
That matchless avenue. 


* * * * * 


The Abbey Church is desolate! 
The Abbot’s faithless hand 

Surrender’d up to tyrant sway 
Both revenues and land; 

No more the Matin-songs of praise, 
Nor Holy Vespers, rise; 

Hush’d is the voice of Compline, ceas’d 
The Daily Sacrifice: 

They break the glass, they melt the brass, 
They strip the massy lead: 

They rifle for their lucre 
The cerecloths of the dead: 

They laugh to scorn the humble prayer 
Writ o’er the senseless clay, 

That asketh ‘‘Of your charite 
A Paternoster say”; 


They overthrow the altar tomb 
With effigy and lore, 

“For Jesu’s tender love in peace 
Repose they evermore”: 

For windows rich in imag’d Saints 
The pink May blossom glows ; 

For frescoed roof and gilded shrine, 
The nightshade and the rose: 

You meet the rude, loud voice and jest, 
The viands and champagne. 

Or from the heartless connoisseur, 
In studied phrase, you hear 

Of light and shade, and heat and warmth, 
Of capital and pier: 

Or the philosopher will teach, 
How superstitious rite 

And ancient mummery have fled 
Before Religion’s light! 


42 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


With such strong denunciations ringing in our ears, 
we approach with rather more than ordinary trepidation 
the last stage of our subject, lest, in seeking to point out 
the artistic features of the old abbey, we may qualify 
for the description of ‘heartless connoisseur.” Our 
chief regret, however, is that so little remains on which 
to centre one’s attention. At the corner of a cottage 
in which dwells that modern representative of the lay 
brother, the sexton, stands the grand entrance to the 
abbey—a broad perpendicular arch ; and the gatehouse, 
with its windows and winding stone staircase, belongs 
to the same style of architecture. Inside the gateway 
was probably a large outer court, but the ground is now 
occupied by a vegetable garden, through which a path 
leads you to the site of the old conventual church, on 
the north side of the abbey. Despite the modern 
chapel-of-ease which has been erected on the same spot, 
it is not difficult to observe the shape of the more 
ancient building. In a meadow outside were ranged in 
a straight line extending some two hundred feet south- 
ward the abbey buildings. They appear to have formed 
one side of a square which constituted the abbey 
precinct, at the extreme edges being a few pieces of 
broken wall. In dry summers the outlines of the 
buildings may be traced from the grass over the founda- 
tions becoming quickly scorched. It would seem that 
a long passage extended from the transept of the 
church, and on either side of this long passage were 
chambers, while at the end was a much larger 
room. 

The present churchyard being on the site of the 
abbey church, when graves have been dug near the 
modern edifice skeletons of the monks have been dis- 


FROM AGE TO AGE a 453 


interred. The ancient mode of burial appears to have 
been as follows: No coffins were used, but the bodies 
were laid in the soil, and a row of stones was arranged 
over them in the shape of a roof, which prevented the 
earth falling on them.» A number of encaustic tiles, 
portions of pillars, and carved stonework have been 
brought to light, and many of the old tiles have been 
utilised in the pavement of the new church. Some of 
them display a shield cheguy; on others are figured 
an elephant towered and a lon rampant between 
crosslets. 

The most singular discovery yet remains to be told. 
We have already stated that in dry weather traces of the 
conventual buildings are still discernible, and we have 
drawn particular attention to the large room at the end 
of a long passage. In this room, at a short distance 
from the wall, a small square was observed to become 
dry so much more quickly than other portions of the 
ground as to excite remark and awaken the belief that 
beneath lay something peculiar. The ground was 
opened, when there were discovered, about two feet from 
the surface, two large stone coffins, placed side by side. 
These coffins measured 6 ft. 6 in. in length, and 
were of the usual type, having a circular depression for 
the head, and a smaller furrow for the heels. The 
covers, which were of Purbeck marble, had been polished, 
but, apart from the ancient cavetto moulding round the 
edge, there was no ornament. 

On the lids being raised, two perfect skeletons were 
disclosed, and these a surgeon of the neighbourhood 
pronounced to be male and female. The bones, having 
been deposited in the more ruinous of the two coffins, 
were buried within the confines of the old abbey church, 


44 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


while the better coffin was left above-ground in a corner 
of the present churchyard for the gratification of the 
learned. We,tremble to think what Dr. Neale would 
have said about this. The “heartless connoisseur” has 
indeed been coddled ! 

Meanwhile, the question may be asked, Who were the 
occupants of the coffins? Well, there ought to be no 
doubt as to the answer. Lord Brewer, as we have 
seen, was buried in the abbey ; and the other skeleton 
was probably, almost certainly, that of his lady. But 
this, if it be admitted, still leaves a question un- 
answered: How was it that these great people were 
interred so far from the abbey church? Probably at 
that time what we have spoken of as a “large room” 
was an ancient chapel, which was in existence prior 
to the erection of the conventual church. After the 
latter was completed, the remains were not disturbed 
and their resting-place was perhaps retained as a 
chantry in which masses were sung for the repose of 
the benefactors’ souls. 

Concerning the architecture of the church, no record 
or tradition exists to attest its style, but capitals of 
columns and fragments of polished marble shafts, which 
are being constantly discovered in the soil, cause it 
to be assigned to the Early English or lancet period. 
Its dimensions were undoubtedly large; and the 
monastic buildings as a whole were on an imposing 
scale. The western tower has fallen at a comparatively 
recent date. 

The Reformation was not altogether popular in the 
West of England, and the measures taken to enforce 
it led in 1548 to a serious rising, in the suppression 
of which the Carew brothers, Sir Peter and Sir Gawen, 


FROM AGE TO AGE 45 


took a considerable part. Sir Gawen, who was the 
fourth son of Sir Edmund Carew, of Mohuns Ottery, 
resided at Wood, the ancient seat of the Whytings at 
Kentisbeare, on the western slope of the Blackdown 
Hills. He was thrice married, and his second wife 
was Mary, daughter of Sir Robert Wotton, Comptroller 
of the Household to Henry, and widow of Sir Henry 
Guyldford, K.G. She “lyethe buried” in Whyting’s 
aisle in Kentisbeare Church, and over the high tomb 
is a brass containing an inscription to her memory and 
a confession of the Protestant faith. 

Although Dunkeswell Church is modern, it contains 
something as old as the abbey church, from which 
indeed it may have come. We refer to the fine 
circular Norman font with its roll of castle twist sur- 
mounted by an arcade that forms a wreath round the 
bowl and is adorned with figures, one of which is a 
bishop in the act of blessing. Even more remarkable 
is the square Norman font in the neighbouring church 
of Luppit, on which are carved heads and what 
appears to be a representation of a hunting-scene, for 
gracing the foremost animal are the long ears of a 
hare. 

The meaning of the name Dunkeswell (pronounced 
Dunkswell) is somewhat obscure. The old form was 
“ Donkewell,” but we cannot be sure that the appellation 
had aught to do with asses, especially as dun is a well- 
known Keltic term for hill, of which numerous examples 
might be culled from the West Country. “ Dunkeswell,” 
says Polwhele, “signifies the hill with the clear well.” 
We sincerely hope it does, although, if this be the 
meaning, it makes a curious hybrid, and we do not 
know that Polwhele is a person to swear by in matters 


" 


‘i 
46 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


of etymology. However that may be, there is a notice- 
able well in the village, which is called after St. Patrick, 
and the village revel is, or was, held on St. Patrick’s 
Day, and, for that not absolutely conclusive reason, 
the parish church is believed to be dedicated to the 
patron saint of Erin. 


CHAPTER III 
POT-POURRI 


FTER a brief halt we resume our pilgrimage, still 
pursuing the same method of recalling the 

great events of history by the aid of local illustrations. 
We stated in the previous chapter that the abbey 
of Dunkeswell in the thirteenth century acquired the 
manor of Broadhembury. It remained the property 
of the fraternity until it was seized by Henry VIII. 
who bestowed it on Thomas Wriothesley, Earl of 
Southampton. Henry Wriothesley, his grandson and 
the man to whom Shakespeare dedicated Venus and 
Adonis and the Rape of Lucrece, sold it to Edward Drewe, 
serjeant-at-law to Queen Elizabeth ; and Edward’s son 
Thomas built about 1610 the manor-house—a stately 
mansion known as the Grange, probably because it 
was erected on the site of one of the granges belonging 
to the abbey. The name of Broadhembury calls up 
recollections of Augustus Montague Toplady, author of 
“Rock of Ages,” who was vicar of the parish from 1768 
to 1775. The inhabitants are naturally proud of the 
connection, and visitors are often attracted to the scene 
of Toplady’s labours among the western hills. Mr. 
Rogers tells a quaint story that has come down from 
the days when the hymn-writer drew breath in the 

village : 
47 


48 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


“A very aged inhabitant, whose years had reached 
within three of fourscore years, and who was still hale 
and active, told us that in his younger days he re- 
membered those who had known and heard Toplady, 
and spoken of his kind sympathetic disposition, and 
his fervour as a preacher. From him, too, we heard 
the story of the poet’s going out into the lanes and 
woods at night, clothed in white (his surplice, doubtless) 
singing his hymns as he walked, often to the terror of . 
his simple-minded parishioners, who deemed they saw 
an apparition, until undeceived by their pastor’s kindly 
voice,” 

The Blackdown people are rather prone to believe 
in supernatural visitants, the “ Christmas ghost” being 
quite an institution. A few years ago a peaceful house- 
hold at Blackborough was awakened in the small hours 
of the morning by groanings unutterable. For a moment 
consternation prevailed, and then with fear and tremb- 
ling the male members of the family prosecuted a search 
for the hobgoblin. They found, however, nothing more 
uncanny than an itinerant tinker asleep on his back 
in the hayloft, and suffering from a bad attack of eguzna 
noctis complicata. 

Harking back to the seventeeth century, we naturally 
look for traces of the great Civil War, and are not 
entirely disappointed. One of the few medizval fort- 
resses in the neighbourhood was Hemyock Castle, of 
which there are still a few remains. At the entrance 
of the castle were two round towers with a portcullis, and 
the whole was enclosed with a moat. Portions of four 
towers and the gateway and part of the moat comprise 
all that is left, and these are fast falling into decay. 
The castle was probably erected by one of the Hydons, 


POT-POURRI 49 


and it continued to be the seat of that family for 
generations. It afterwards passed to the Dynhams, and 
from them to Pophams and Leighs. In the early part 
of the last century it was purchased by General Simcoe, 
who proposed to rebuild it on the original model, but 
the design was never carried out. We have been 
unable to gather any precise information on the subject, 
but it appears that at the time of the Civil Wars the 
castle was held for the Parliament, and, according to the 
tradition of the place, it was destroyed soon after the 
Restoration. 

From Hemyock to Culmstock is a matter of two 
miles or so alongia good road, and in respect of Common- 
wealth traditions also the two are near neighbours. 
The particular tradition to which we are about to 
refer is closely connected with Blackmore’s fancy name 
for the village—Perlycross. As we are dealing with 
etymologies, it would appear proper to bestow some 
passing reflections on the ordinary name. The suffix 
“stock” need not detain us, since, either in the present 
form or as “stoke,” it isamong the commonest of place- 
symbols. It is the former part—the name of the river 
—that interests us. Of one thing we may be certain— 
it has nothing to do with any kind of coal, but it does 
seem possible that an origin may be found for it in the 
revered name of the great Irish missionary. In old 
documents and maps the form “Columb” is preferred, 


! Instead of carrying out this somewhat fantastic project, General 
Simcoe erected Walford Lodge, Dunkeswell. This. officer had had 
a very distinguished career, first as commander of Simcoe’s Scouts 
in the American War of Independence, then as Governor of San 
Domingo during the insurrection, and, finally, as Governor-General 
of Canada. 


4 


50 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


which is, at least, suggestive. Then the neighbourhood 
swarms with the names of saints, some in conjunction 
with “Culm” or “Columb,” others not. Thus we have 
“Culm John,” “Culm Davy” (or “Columb David”), 
and Clyst St. Lawrence. If Devon has no town or 
village called after St. Columba (who, the reader may 
be reminded, was a man), the adjacent Duchy of Corn- 
wall affords evidence that the celebrated Irish saint was 
by no means unknown in the southern part of the 
kingdom. Nor is the naming of a river after a saint 
without parallel elsewhere. The St. Lawrence, St. 
Maurice, and St. Francis in Canada are examples of 
the sort of compliment which the devout Catholic is 
disposed to pay to those whose aid he may invoke." 

Blackmore’s poetical substitute presents, apparently, 
less difficulty. “ Perle,’ we consider, is merely another 
spelling of “purl,” which is often used of streams (¢.¢., 
“a purling brook”); and as for “cross,” it refers, no 
doubt, to the cross-roads near the church. But Black- 
more, who was wonderfully learned in antiquarian 
matters—being aware, for instance, that a member of 
the Snell family was Mayor of Exeter, and, he might 
have added, member of Parliament for the city, in the 
seventeenth century—probably knew that at one period 
the spot was marked by an actual cross. 

In Polwhele’s time (czvciter 1800) there stood in an 
open space between Fore Street and Silver Street an 


! While by no means pinning ourselves to this explanation, which, 
to be honest, we regard as highly problematical, we are hardly 
better pleased with Mr. Baring-Gould’s derivation—"“ Welsh cé@//; 
Gael. cao/, narrow, slender”; inasmuch as it entirely ignores 
the ‘‘m,” which, it seems to us, is just as important as the other 
three letters. 


POT-POURRI 51 


old market-house and shambles, and, what is more to 
the point, an old wayside cross. By order of the “Church 
of Exeter,” to which the manor of Culmstock belonged, 
these buildings were pulled down, and subsequently 
a new market-house was erected. Hard by was an 
ancient building, called the Great House, which in 1778 
was an inn, but in Polwhele’s time “a mere heap of 
stones without one tolerable room in it.” Concerning 
this dilapidated structure the old men of the village 
had an interesting story. They said it was the work 
of one Baker, who was stated to have held temporary 
possession of the manor during the Commonwealth 
régime. This tradition was confirmed by the date 
“1653,” affixed to the front. By a curious coincidence 
—for the Puritans were no great lovers of crosses, 
which they were more apt to pull down than to set 
up—the erection of the wayside cross was also 
assigned to the same Master Baker. We are tempted 
to brush aside this account as too improbable, but 
it receives perhaps some support from the fact that 
house and cross were built of the same material, and 
in the same style. (Baker, of course, may not have 
built the house at all.) When packhorses, once so 
largely employed, were superseded by waggons, the 
cross, it is averred, was removed so as to allow of more 
room for the vehicles to pass. All traces of these old 
buildings have long since disappeared. 

A wild country like the Blackdowns is a likely resort 
for fairies, who love desolate places. Hence it was 
a happy idea of Richard Bovet, a member of a well- 
known Wellington family, to write and publish, as he did 
in 1684, that valuable work of his entitled Pandemonzum, 
or the Devil’s Cloyster, in which has been preserved 


é iy. 


52 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


much curious information regarding seventeenth-century 
elves that might otherwise have been lost. 

“The place,” says he, “near which they most ordi- 
narily showed themselves was on the side of a hill called 
Blackdown. Those that have had occasion to travel 


that way have frequently seen them there, appearing - 


like men and women of a stature generally near the 
smaller size of men; their habits used to be red, blue, 
or gfeen, according to the old way of the country garb, 
with high-crowned hats.” 

That these fairies should be fond of dancing will 
surprise nobody who has the least acquaintance with 
the manners and customs of their fantastic realm ; and, 
lest we should forget, there are pixy-rings in the 
meadows where they hold their revels on moonlit nights 
in summer. We must confess, however, to some little 
astonishment on reading that this particular tribe kept 
fairs. The fact leaked out in a somewhat curious way. 
A farmer was returning one night from market when 
he saw a great array of fairies, and, being of an in- 
quisitive disposition, drew near to learn what they were 
at. Now fairies have a great abhorrence of being 
overlooked, especially by mortal eyes; and when they 
are offended, possess both the will and power to punish. 
So the upshot was that the foolish farmer was im- 
mediately struck lame and went a-crippling all his days. 

“There were some,” says Bovet, “whose names I 
have now forgot, but who assured me that they had 
at many times seen this fair-keeping in the summer 
time, as they came from Taunton market; but that 
they must not adventure in amongst them, for that 
every one that had done so had received great damage 
by it. Any person who is incredulous of what is related 


‘ 


POT-POURRI 53 


may, upon inquiry of the neighbour inhabitants, receive 
ample satisfaction not only as to what is here related, 
but abundantly more, which I have heard solemnly 
related by them.” 

Culmstock village stands in a peculiar relation to the 
Blackdowns, being, as it were, the toll-gate to civilisation. 
We cannot hope to rival by our own feeble efforts 
the happy description of the place by its loving son, 
R. D. Blackmore, whose nature-pictures are always of 
supreme excellence; and the time has already come 
when Temple’s parish should receive more particular 
notice. 

“The old church standing on a bluff above the river 
is well placed for looking up and down the fertile 
valley. Flashes of the water on its westward course 
may be caught from this point of vantage, amidst 
the tranquillity of the ancient trees and sunny breadths 
of pasture. For there the land has smoothed itself 
into a smiling plain, casting off the wrinkles of hills 
and gullies, and the frown of the shaggy brows of 
heather. The rigour of the long flinty range is past, and 
a flower can stand without a bush to back it, and the 
wind has ceased from shuddering. 

“ But the Perle [Culm] has not come to these pleasures 
yet, as it flows on the north side of the churchyard, 
and some hundred feet beneath it. The broad shallow 
channel is strewn with flint, and the little stream cannot 
fill it, except in times of heavy flood, for the main of 
its waters has been diverted to work the woollen factory, 
and rejoins the natural course at the bridge, two or 
three hundred yards below. On the further side, the 
land runs to the barren height of Beacon Hill, which 
shelters Sir Thomas Waldon’s house [Axon?—see 7/ra], 


54 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


and is by its conical form distinct from the other 
extremities of the Blackdown Chain. For the southern 
barrier of the valley (which is about three miles wide 
at its mouth) is formed by the long dark chine of 
Hagdon [Hackpen] Hill, which ends abruptly in a 
steep descent; and seeing that all this part of the 
vale, and the hills which shape it, are comprised in 
the parish of Perlycross [Culmstock], it will become 
clear that a single parson, if he attempts to go through 
all his work, must have a very fine pair of legs, and 
a sound constitution, to quicken them.” 

Of the church, which is dedicated to All Saints, we 
have before spoken and shall have occasion to speak 
again. Here we must be guilty of an act of treason 
against Blackmore’s “heights of history,” as he terms 
his romance, for at Culmstock you shall look in vain 
for the black ruins of an abbey, against which the 
grand old church is said to stand forth in the grey 
power of life. What the novelist seems to have done 
is to have brought the abbey, or the ruins thereof, 
bodily from Dunkeswell, where such a scene presents 
itself. The embattled tower offers several points of 
interest. Rather low, it is exceptionally capacious, and, 
unlike the generality of its type, possesses a turret. 
With regard to the interior, the visitor will be much 
struck with the appearance of the belfry. For the 
purpose, one may presume, of swinging the bells, the 
wall has, to a great extent, been cut away. This 
defect, however, is to be remedied. At one time the 
tower contained a gallery, and, curiously enough, 
access to this gallery was obtained by the ordinary 
belfry stairs. The oaken door leading to it is very 
old, so that the gallery would appear not to have 


POT-POURRI 55 


been of modern erection. The wall at this point is 
over five feet thick—which suggests the obvious criticism 
that, if many church towers are so constructed, it is no 
wonder that they have successfully withstood the worst 
effects of time and weather. 

The most remarkable feature of the tower has yet 
to be mentioned. This is a yew-tree which springs 
out of the south face, from a ledge running under the 
parapet. Naturally Blackmore has a word to say 
on this extraordinary tree, which from its insecure 
foot-hold so boldly flaunts the empyrean. 

“ This tower,” he says, “ was famous among its friends, 
not only for substance and height, and proportion, and 
piercings, and sweet content of bells; but also for its, 
bold uplifting of the green against the blue. To wit, 
for a time much longer than any human memory, 
a sturdy yew-tree had been standing on the topmost 
stringing-course, in a sheltering niche of the southern 
face, with its head overtopping the battlements, and 
scraping the scroll of the south-east vane. Backed as 
it was by solid stone, no storm had succeeded!in tugging 
its tough roots out of the meshes of mortar; and there 
it stood and meant to stand, a puzzle to gardeners, a 
pleasure to jackdaws, and the pride of all Perlycrucians. 
Even Mr. Penniloe, that great improver, could not get 
a penny towards his grand designs, until he had signed 
a document with both churchwardens, that, happen 
what might, not a hair of the head of the sacred yew-tree 
should perish.” 

No certain information can be given as to the history 
or origin of this singular “freak.” The topic is briefly 
discussed in a guide-book of 1858, wherein it is stated 
that none of the old people then living could furnish 


Te ae 
“ 


56 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


any account of the matter. All they could say was 
that the tree had been there ever since they were 
children ; hence the writer concluded, fairly enough, 
that it was at least a hundred years old. At that rate 
its present age must be a century and a half, but it is 
probably more. The tree is said to be “going back,” 
and we fear the impeachment is true. It shows un- 
doubted signs of failure. Some of the upper branches 
have died and been removed, and those which remain 
appear to lack nourishment. In Temple’s boyhood 
the boughs were strong enough to support a man, and 
a lad of fifteen, named Jones, is remembered as sitting 
out amongst the branches, thus, as our older divines 
would have expressed it, “tempting Providence.” 

The commonly accepted version of the growth of the 
tree in so unexpected a quarter is that the seed was 
carried up by the wind or a bird from one of the yews 
in the churchyard, settled in the mouldering mortar, 
germinated, and brought forth a yew. On the cover 
of the book of Culmstock churchwardens’ accounts 
may be found the following statement, certified to be 
copied from the title-deeds of the Prescott estate : “ The 
yew-tree standing between the church porch and the 
chancel door was planted by John Were, of Gulliford, 
in this parish, at his own charge, the 16th day of 
February, 1718, which was thirteen years at that time 
arising from the berry.” This tree no longer exists, 
but it may well be that the yew-tree on the tower is 
the product of some of its seed. 

Culmstock folk take a deep interest in their trees, 
as witness the following notice at the commencement 
of the same book: 

“Two horse-chestnut trees were planted in the church- 


“HOATUH MOOLSW’TNO 
‘SUDYNV SA AQ Surmpap 0 MOAT 


ss i 


POT-POURRI 57 


yard, one near the eastern, the other near the western 
end, on the 30th of October, 1809, being the fifth day 
after the day which was set apart for a general jubilee to 
commemorate the commencement of the fiftieth year 
of his Majesty King George the Third. The nuts 
from which the trees sprang dropped from a tree in 
his Majesty’s garden at Richmond, and were picked 
up and planted at Bridwell, in the parish of Halberton, 
in the year 1801, by Richard Hall Clarke, Esq. They 
are to be called the Jubilee Trees, and it is to be hoped 
they will not be injured or removed so long as they 
produce a green leaf. Planted by Henry Southey and 
others in the presence of James Hellings and Captain 
Jewell Collier, Churchwardens, Robert Fry, Captain 
Ist troop Cavalry, East Devon Legion.” 

Here are two items relating to the subject in the 
accounts proper—viz., “ Paid for drawing the Jubil [szc] 
trees from Birdwell [phonetic for Bridwell], 3s. ; and for 
planting ditto, 3s. 6d.” One of the trees is now gone, 
but the other still flourishes, a conspicuous object in 
Culmstock Churchyard. 

To the inhabitants of Culmstock, who have not many 
public structures, and especially to the more juvenile 
members of the community—happy youngsters! they 
have yet a relish for the wonderful in nature and 
in art, and thus resemble their remote ancestor, the 
noble, untutored, unsophisticated savage—the bridge is 
something to contemplate and pride oneself on. It 
originally consisted of three arches, one of which was 
swept away by a flood, and in 1774 two arches were 
built to take its place. “In Polwhele’s time” there are 
said to have been six arches, five for the main stream, 
and one at some distance from the rest, for the water of 


58 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


the mill-stream. There is no reason to doubt the 
accuracy of this report, for the “lake” has been diverted 
from its ancient channel, which lay through the garden 
of the Railway Hotel. The square brick arch, which 
has been inserted with no great taste at the southern 
end, is designed to carry off the superfluous water of the 
main stream. This at ordinary times is not much, since 
the mill-leat performs the duty to admiration, and in- 
deed much impoverishes the river from which it derives 
its sustenance. 

Well, we do not think that any visitor of intelligence 
will seek to flatter his sense of personal superiority by 
professing not to like Culmstock bridge. The bridge 
itself is worth looking at, but the sight is rendered 
infinitely more charming by the weir which stretches 
immediately below, and over which the reunited stream 
falls softly, like the rustle of silver lace. We are 
speaking now of its normal conduct, for the Culm is at 
times a great transgressor, and instead of resembling a 
modest and dainty lady, descends with all the fury of an 
Amazon. Blackmore describes the river under both 
aspects. In Cvocker’s Hole he says: “ Culmstock bridge 
is a very pretty place to stand and contemplate the ways 
of trout, which is easier work than to catch them. When 
I was just big enough to peep above the rim, or to lie 
upon it with one leg inside for fear of tumbling 
over, what a mighty river it used to seem, for it takes 
a treat there and spreads itself.” And in Perlycross 
a huge deluge consequent on a thaw is thus pictured. 
“ The Perle [Culm] became a roaring flood, half a mile 
wide in the marshes ; and the Susscott brook dashed 
away the old mill-wheel, and whirled away some of 
it as far as Joe Crang’s anvil, fulfilling thereby an old 


POT-POURRI 59 


prophecy. Nobody could get—without swimming horse 
or self—from Perlycombe [Hemyock] to Perlycross 
[Culmstock], or from Perlycross to Perliton [U ffculme] ; 
and old Mother Pods was drowned in her cottage. 
The view of the valley from either Beacon Hill or 
Hagdon [Hackpen] was really grand for any one tall 
enough to wade so far up the weltering ways. Old 
Channing vowed that he had never seen such a flood 
and feared that the big bridge would be washed away ; 
but now was seen the value of the many wide arches 
which had puzzled Christie Fox in the distance.” 

Other persons besides Christie Fox, who know the 
Culm only as a petty stream, will be inclined to treat 
this account as incredible, but we do not think it is 
a bit exaggerated, or, if so, only slightly. Talk to 
old villagers like William Shaddock, who has lived 
for many years in one of the cob-built cottages bordering 
the river, and they will tell you how the Culm has stood 
in those cottages breast-high, while it has poured in 
enormous volume over the hedge which rises loftily 
on the other side of its broad bed. It has to be re- 
membered that the main current is reinforced at such 
times, from its well-head near Dunkeswell downwards, 
by a number of small contributory streams, which 
under the influence of heavy rains, rapidly assume the 
character of torrents. Anything more discomforting 
to the riverside people can hardly be imagined, but 
some of the cottagers, at all events, seem to have 
taken these visitations philosophically, and even with 
humour. Old Mrs. Frost, who dwelt near Culmstock 
bridge and was therefore in the heart of the hurly-burly, 
to escape a wetting mounted her table. Presently 
the influx of water lifted and moved the article of 


60 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


furniture on which she had sought refuge, when the 
cheery old dame exclaimed, “ Now we're off!” 

Next to, or perhaps before their bridge, the Culmstock 
folk are deeply interested in their beacon, which is 
a potent source of attraction to outsiders. It stands 
at the western extremity of an elevated plateau, the 
sides and summit whereof are clothed with abundance 
of fern and heather, and it is approached by a somewhat 
rugged lane branching off from one of the two roads 
leading to Hemyock. Where the lane ends a steep 
path begins, plentifully strewn with grit-stones, but 
resolving itself, in its topmost stage, into. a sort of 
glacis, bare of foot-holds and exceedingly slippery. 
Arriving after severe toil at the object of our quest, we 
are rewarded by one of those magnificent prospects 
for which the Blackdowns are famous, and somebody 
has been good enough to provide seats for weary 
wayfarers—a thoroughly charitable act. The beacon 
itself is a small dome-shaped building open at the 
top and pierced, if we may borrow a term sanctioned 
by ecclesiologists, by two “squints.” A doorway is 
there, but no door, and within are circular seats, 
whereby hangs a tale. 

Many years ago, when Samuel Townsend kept the 
Tuns, it was not the custom for country people to 
patronise banks, and so mine host had bestowed the 
twenty sovereigns which he had laid by to pay his 
rent in a cash-box. The cash-box was missed, and 
Townsend, much upset, “gave information.” Inquiries 
showed that the precious receptacle had been taken 
out into the meadow by a lodger or some one acquainted 
with the servant-girl, and the wretch confessed that 
he had concealed his share under the seats in 


ae —— 


POT-POURRI 61 


the beacon. His story having been verified, he was 
marched off to Justice Clarke at Clayhidon, committed 
to the assizes, and transported. 

The charred appearance of the roof would indicate 
that the beacon has been applied to its intended use ; and 
probably at one time it supported a brazier. We are 
afraid, however, that Culmstock beacon, in its individual 
capacity, has no history. With regard to beacons 
in general, we learn from Lord Coke that before the 
reign of Edward III. they consisted merely of stacks 
of wood set up in high places. Under that warlike 
and prudent monarch pitch-boxes were substituted, and 
in times of danger watch was kept at the beacons, 
by most of which troops of horsemen called by the 
queer name of hobbelers were stationed to give notice 
of the approach of anenemy. The erection of beacons 
was a branch of the royal prerogative, and the care 
of them was entrusted to one or more of the adjacent 
hundreds, while the cost of maintaining them was 
defrayed by a tax levied on each hundred by the sheriff 
of the county. 

Somehow we cannot persuade ourselves to assign 
the existing beacon so ancient a date, and we feel 
it a sufficient tax on our historical conscience to admit 
the possibility of its going back to that great crisis 
in the life of the nation when 


swift to east and swift to west the ghastly war-flame spread, 
High on St. Michael’s Mount it shone ; it shone on Beachy Head. 
Far on the deep the Spaniard saw, along its southern shire, 


Cape beyond cape, in endless range, those twinkling points of fire. 
We harbour no doubt, however, that the beacon has 
blazed on many occasions of national importance, and 
sent up a column of jubilation when tidings of victory 


62 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


reached the parish, as must have been the case during 
the long struggle with France in the days of Bonaparte. 

Archbishop Temple had a great love for Beacon 
Hill, and during one of his occasional visits to his 
property remarked to an old retainer, “Oh, for half an 
hour over there!” whilst he regretted that his busy 


life and many duties rendered such a pleasure unattain- 


able. As a boy, however, we think he must have 
been far more attracted by another and more imposing 
structure reared on the same table-land. For this, 
as we shall see, he had probably a particular reason, 
but, whether he had or not, the sight of the Wellington 
Monument must have suggested to him, as it suggests 
to us, the inquiry, What precisely was the Iron 
Duke’s connection with the neighbourhood ? 
Apparently it was very slight. Still, there seems 
to be no doubt that he took his title as marquis, and 
afterwards as duke, from the Somerset town and not 
from the town in Shropshire. In 1813, having received 
from Parliament a grant of £100,000, he acquired 
possession of the manor of Wellington with hereditary 
rights. In 1814 the Duke paid a visit to the town 
and met with a public reception, which, we believe, 
presented no unusual features. The inhabitants, how- 
ever, atoned for any lack of originality on the occasion 
by the festivities with which they celebrated the con- 
clusion of peace in that year. These were on so 
grand a scale that we can well fancy that some of his 
older neighbours may have poured into young Temple’s 
attentive ear glowing accounts of the fine doings in 
the town, when the Marquis became a duke. It has 
been mooted that the elaborate nature of the pro- 
ceedings was “a plant.” From the purchase of the 


POT-POURRI 63 


manor the inhabitants drew the not unreasonable 
conclusion that the Duke either intended or might 
be induced to fix his residence at Wellington, and 
by the warmth and energy of this celebration they 
did their best to encourage him. 

levis \Tuesday, and the 28th of June; The 
firing of cannon and the ringing of bells usher in 
as lovely a morning as ever smiled on the earth and 
bid the townsfolk prepare for the delights of the 
day. In an incredibly short space whole streets are 
adorned with rare and radiant devices, which the 
vanity of the good denizens assures them are out of 
all whooping, and defy imitation. Here a beauteous 
festoon of evergreens, entwined with flowers, sur- 
mounts the blessed word “ Peace,” spelt in bold and 
well-shapen letters of laurel. A few steps farther, and 
the eye falls on cornucopias—we know not, and care 
not, whether there be a classical plural—with gracious 
bending wheat. There a wide spread of oak marks 
a house-front, even to the uppermost windows with 
their vases of flowers ; and, best of all, over the gateway 
of the White Hart, lo! Peace, her foot planted on 
a globe, and compassed with laurel. For private 
decorations, so much. 

At the west entrance of the town springs, wide and 
lofty, a triumphal arch of oak and laurel, over the midst 
of which beams, in counterfeit presentment, the gay and 
smiling and good-humoured countenance of Mr. John 
Bull; and that his mood may not lack apology, over 
the whole wide roadway extends the inscription : 


John Bull has done his duty. 


At the east entrance stands a companion arch decked 


ee 


64 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


with the portrait of the Duke and a motto so large 
that it almost shouts: 


Long live the Duke of Wellington. 


At nine o'clock the items that are to compose the 
gorgeous pageant begin to gather in the big field on 
the west ; at eleven, formed into their places, they set 
out on their march churchwards, a vast concourse 
rapturously applauding them. The order of procession 
is as follows: 


Gentlemen of Wellington, four abreast. 
Three Trumpeters. 

Captain C. Bellet—Herald—Captain W Bellet. 
Twelve Yeomen, three abreast, 
Four clergymen in canonicals, 

DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
Eight aides-de-camp. 
Maimed soldiers and sailors two-and-two. 
Oxen and Plough. 
Music. 

Husbandmen’s Club 
Representation of a Farmyard. 
Women’s Society. 

Music. 

Britannia in a Car, with Shield and Trident, drawn 
by richly caparisoned horses. 
Union Society. 

Women’s Society. 

Band of Music. 

Two Shepherdesses leading a Lamb. 
Bishop Blaize. 
Woolcombers’ Society. 

Band of Music. 

Women’s Society. 
Representation of Trade and Commerce. 
Providing Brothers’ Society. 

A Loom. 

Drums and Fifes. 


POT-POURRI 65 


Men Weaver's Society. 

Women Weaver’s Society. 
MusIc. 
Union Brotherly Society, 
Drums and Fifes. 
John Bull, accompanied by Peace and Plenty, drawn in 
a beautifully decorated car, by two Oxen. 
Sunday-School children, five abreast, Boy's School preceding. 

Forty Cavalry, three abreast. 


A bare enumeration of its component parts can convey 
no sufficient idea of the glories of this procession, which 
we may now examine in rather more detail. The 
gentlemen of Wellington wore white and blue cockades, 
and the horses they bestrode were dressed in ribbons. 
A “respectable person”—apparently not a gentleman 
—represented the Duke of Wellington. He was attired 
in full regimentals and sat in a gilt car embellished with 
laurel. The car was drawn by horses decked with 
white favours, and harnessed four abreast. His Grace 
was the object of the loud and incessant plaudits of 
the encircling company, and his carriage was attended 
by a black servant. Following the car was a troop of 
yeomanry, and this was succeeded by a band of music 
playing martial airs. 

Next came a company of husbandmen with wands, 
and a company of females in white dresses, with coloured 
scarves, ribbons, and flowers. Amongst the latter— 
and this was the case with several other societies— 
was one attired as a queen, and over her was borne 
a canopy surmounted with a crown. Music followed, 
after which appeared one of the most pleasing features 
of the procession. This was a lofty car whereon stood 
a female in the bloom of youthful beauty, representing 
Britannia. One foot rested on a cannon, in her right 


5 


| Bi 
arte 


66 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


hand was a trident, and her left was supported by 
a shield. At her feet lay military trophies and the 
classical incidents of the character ; but, more perhaps 
than shield and helm, the loveliness of Britannia’s face 
and her dignified bearing drew torrents of applause 
from the gratified beholders. (Confidentially, she was 
a Miss Clarke.) The car, to which were attached four 
steeds gay with ribbons, was accompanied by a fine 
band playing “Rule Britannia!” 

After this came rustics, with agricultural implements 
and emblems, flags, and devices, on one of which 
was painted Isaiah ii. 4. The woolcombers formed 
a numerous body and did honour to their craft. 
They wore caps of vari-coloured wool in the flock 
and white shirts crossed by coloured scarves with 
blue knots. The woolpack was supported on a staff, 
and a most reverend-looking Bishop Blaize followed, 
in canonicals. He was preceded by prettily dressed 
boys, with small Bibles in their hands, and behind him 
marched a shepherd lad with a lamb in his arms, 
attended by a shepherdess. In this part of the pro- 
cession was borne a large purple flag, whereon was 
painted a device illustrative of the trade, with the 
inscription “Trade and Commerce.” On the reverse 
side was an animated likeness of the Duke of Welling- 
ton, with the motto “England’s Champion.” 

Next in order were the weavers attired in white shirts 
and pink and blue scarves, with wands, while the women 
were adorned with a profusion of ribbons and flowers. 
With them were carried two flags, one of which bore 
the motto “ Freedom and Independence,” and the other 


When the shuttle stands still, 
All trades go ill. 


POT-POURRI 67 


Aloft on a car was a man actively employed at a 
loom. 

After that appeared John Bull in a rustic car drawn 
by four oxen. This character was admirably supported 
by a respectable yeoman, whose large but well-pro- 
portioned figure supplied a realistic portrait of the full- 
fed, hearty, typical Englishman. “ Typical,’ however 
is hardly correct, for it would have been difficult to 
find his fellow in the whole kingdom. His weight was 
twenty-three stone, and the width of his back across 
the shoulders just one yard two inches. He was seated 
before a baron of beef, which he attacked with becoming 
resolution. Hard by was an immense jug of strong 
beer, which he decanted into a glass of proportionate 
size. In the fore part of the car were two beautiful 
girls, representing Peace and Plenty. Peace showed 
with her olive-branch and her dove, and at her side 
was the sister-goddess carrying a cornucopia and a 
basket of fruit, and flanked with sheaves of ripe 
wheat. The car bore two _ inscriptions—on the 
front “Peace and Plenty”; on the back “John Bull 
Triumphant.” 

Then followed a representation of John Bull’s farm- 
yard. In the first car were seen a sheep, a calf, a pig, 
and an ass; in the second, standing wheat-sheaves ; and 
in the third, a fine collection of peacocks, guinea-fowls, 
ducks, geese, etc. The next item was the boys and 
girls of the Sunday school with ribbons and labels, 
on which were inscribed various mottoes—eg., “Give 
God thanks,” “Britons, rejoice,” etc; and a troop of 
yeomanry brought up the rear.” 

On returning from Divine service a vast number 
of people sat down to roast and boiled meat and 


68 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


plum-pudding, which were provided for the occasion 
on tables; and ranged along the boards was an un- 
limited supply of beer and cider. In the evening there 
was a grand display of fireworks. 

It is worthy of remark that the town of Wellington, 
by its mode of celebrating the conclusion of peace, set 
an example in the way of public rejoicing which was 
generally followed in the West of England. . 

The origin of the Wellington Monument may be 
briefly stated. A few gentlemen of the neighbourhood 
being desirous of erecting some permanent memorial 
of the Duke’s great achievements, a meeting was 
held at the White Hart Inn on September 5th, 1815, 
when an influential committee was formed, and it 
was resolved to issue a circular inviting subscrip- 
tions, and containing, amongst others, the following 
paragraph : 

“The local advantages offered by the elevated site 
of Blackdown for the intended purpose is (szc) not less 
happily in union with the respect designed towards 
the noble Duke on the occasion than it is with the 
national object of exhibiting to the inhabitants of a 
vast tract of country an impressive record of the 
deeds of glory, which in destroying the most for- 
midable despotism in Europe have elevated the 
national character of our country into unprecedented 
splendour.” 

A second meeting was held on January 19th, 1816, 
at the Thatched House Tavern, St. James’s Street, 
London; and the Duke of Wellington, on being 
informed of his countrymen’s wishes, gave his sanc- 
tion to the project, as appears from the following 
letter : 


POT-POURRI 69 


“Paris, February 18th, 1816. 

“My DEAR LORD SOMERVILLE,— 

“T received by your last post your letter of the 
22nd, and [ assure you that I am much flattered by 
the measures which have been adopted with a view 
to erect a monument for the Battle of Waterloo on 
the estate at Wellington. 

“JT have received Mr. Kinglake’s report. I have so 
little knowledge of my own affairs, and possessing 
no former report to which I can refer, I can form no 
opinion of it. My opinion has long been that I have 
either too much or too little property in the neighbour- 
hood ; and I will readily, as depends on me, follow 
your advice in increasing it either by way of enclosure 
(sic). I shall be obliged to you if you will give such 
directions as you may think necessary respecting the 
same. 

“Ever, my dear Lord Somerville, 
“Yours most sincerely, 
“ WELLINGTON.” 


The foundation stone of the monument was laid 
on October 20th, 1816, but more than twelve months 
elapsed before its completion. In 1860 the structure 
had become so ruinous that it was practically rebuilt 
on a more imposing scale; and further repairs, we 
understand, were carried out a few years ago. Its 
exposed situation naturally renders the monument 
especially liable to the assaults of wind and weather. 
In its present state the structure contains a stairway 
numbering 225 steps, and the interior is enveloped 
in darkness—a circumstance which appears to try many 
people’s nerves. 

Upon the erection of the monument a man named 


7O EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE ' 
: 


Doubledanger conceived the idea of organising a 
pleasure fair, which he called, after the great battle, 
the Waterloo Fair. He hoped to see it develop into 
an annual institution, and for about two years it was 
held on the 18th of June—the anniversary of the 
victory—in the open space around the pillar, after 
which it collapsed. Such, at least, is Mr. A. L. 
Humphreys’s statement, but people on the spot, who 
know of the fair as a matter of tradition, report that 
it lasted many years. It may be added that the second 
bell in Culmstock tower was recast in the last century 
“to the memory of the Duke of Wellington.” 


CHAPTER) SV 
THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 


AJOR OCTAVIUS TEMPLE bought and 
took possession of Axon, a small estate in 
the parish of Culmstock, in 1830. It is only a small 
estate, consisting of some fifty acres, and the house, 
which has since been considerably enlarged, is plain 
and of modest proportions, the only ornament of the 
white facade with its two rows of oblong windows 
being the porch. So far back as tradition extends, 
it was always regarded as a gentleman’s residence, but 
the occupier, more for amusement than profit, usually 
engaged in farming. This was the case with Major 
Temple’s predecessor, who was not merely a farmer, 
but a sportsman, and kept greyhounds for coursing, 
a practice not imitated by the gallant major. Major 
Temple reserved the Entrance Field and one or two 
other closes for his personal experiments, and the rest 
of his land he let off to neighbouring agriculturists. 

If the late Archbishop’s father had been himself a 
farmer in the ordinary sense of the word, the fact 
would have been, of course, in no way a disgrace, but, 
as he was believed during his lifetime—largely as 
the result of his confessions—to be a son of the soil, 
while all the time, we are informed, he prided himself 

71 


72 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


in a quiet and reasonable manner on his gentle birth, 
it is just as well to devote a line or so to what 
Devonshire folk would call his “havage.” On both 
his father’s and his mother’s side he was, and owned 
himself to be, purely Cornish. His grandfather was 
the Rev. William Temple, who, if he did not write 
himself into fame, was the intimate companion of men 
who did. He knew Boswell, and Johnson, and Thomas 
Gray; revised Boswell’s Account of Corsica, and on 
the death of Gray in 1771 wrote a character-sketch 
of the poet in a letter to Boswell. Boswell published 
it in the London Magazine, and Johnson thought so 
well of the appreciation as to include it in his Lzves 
of the Poets. 

William Temple perhaps could never have indited 
an Elegy in a Country Churchyard, but he could and 
did write an Essay on the Clergy: Their Studies, Re- 
creations, and Decline of Influence, which proved a happy 
inspiration. The production was greatly to the liking 
of Bishop Horne, a considerable author in his way ; 
and his own Bishop Keppel, who presided over the 
yet undismembered diocese of Exeter, was stimulated 
to advance Temple’s worldly interests. Thus after a 
tough fight with poverty the essayist was at length 
preferred to the “best living” that Keppel had in his 
gift—the vicarage of St. Gluvias with the chapelry 
of St. Budock, in Cornwall. If 4500 a year, and a 
wife and family, and a country cure, and opportunities 
for literary study can make a man happy—and why 
should they not?—then the Rev. William Temple 
had no right to complain. He had eleven children, 
one of whom, Octavius, entered the army, and another, 
Francis Temple, the navy. The latter rose to be an 


i Fy 


THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 73 


admiral, and on his retirement from the service withdrew 
to a small estate near Truro, where the late Archbishop 
frequently spent his vacations, and doubtless it was 
there, as well as on his father’s land, that he learned 
the “ploughing” of which so much has been made. 
Admiral Temple died in 1863. 

On his mother’s side the Archbishop was of very 
good family, she being a Carveth of Bartilever, 
Cornwall. The pedigree of the Carveths is given in 
Mr. J. Maclean’s History of Bodmin, where it is traced 
through many illustrious ancestors to Guy de Beauchamp, 
second Earl of Warwick, 1315. 

That Major Temple possessed sterling qualities— 
“principle,” as it is called in Devonshire villages—is 
not denied, but the verdict of some old inhabitants 
who survive and can remember those far-off days in 
Culmstock is qualified—not to say, hostile. One good 
deed which these critics grudgingly place to his credit 
was his having joined with Mr. John Short, of Prescott, 
in procuring for the poor of the parish fifty acres of 
land, at Hillmore and Maidendown, as allotments. 
This is conceded to have been mainly his doing, though 
the fact is contemplated with wonder as being out 
of character with his general record. Few persons, 
however, are aware of the immense amount of trouble 
which it cost Major Temple to see this scheme realised. 
The land was the property of the Dean and Chapter 
of Exeter, and he had therefore to pay frequent visits 
to London in order to gain the sanction of the Eccle- 
siastical Commissioners. As the mail-coaches are said 
not to have exceeded ten miles an hour, the journey 
to town and back occupied three days and three 
nights ; and, in addition to the trouble, there was the 


74. EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


expense. For all this he received scant thanks; and 
to this day he is disparaged as “ cruel to the poor” and 
a “born slave-driver,’ which is considered to have 
been his employment when he went out to Sierra 
Leone. Indeed, it is not too much to say that his 
memory is execrated by the few remaining ancients, 
who can look back to the time before the reform of the 
Poor Law, when the lax system of relief was, in many 
places, grossly abused. 

It seems that Major Temple and Mr. Short, both 
zealous reformers, were anxious to amend this state 
of things, and build a central workhouse for the 
Wellington Union on Maidendown, where it would 
be quite close to Axon and not far from Mr. Short’s 
hall at Prescott. Listening to the natives, one learns 
that a perfect storm arose over this proposal, and 
that in the end the guilty authors of the project were 
compelled to fly from the neighbourhood. The ex- 
pedient whereby the oppressors were finally expelled 
was, it is said, a threat of assassination. One fine 
day a suspicious-looking box was discovered on Maiden- 
down ; and this, on being opened, was found to contain 
a cat’s head stuck through with a knife, and accom- 
panied by a letter in which the major was warned 
that his hat would be bathed in his own blood. Attempts 
were made to identify the writer, but although many 
persons were called up in connection with the affair, 
nobody was arrested. Meanwhile, in the opinion of 
the perpetrators, the ruse was considered to have 
succeeded, for the men who had been “ bitter to the 
poor” and sought to break up their humble homes 
for the sake of public economy, deemed it for some 
reason or other advisable to quit the parish. Major 


THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 75 


Temple departed to Sierra Leone, and what became 
of Mr. Short the villager wotteth not, but it is 
triumphantly asserted that Prescott became too hot 
for him, and in a very little while his place knew him 
no more. 

It was not only the Poor Law, however; other 
opinions, equally unpopular, led up to this “culmina- 
tion.” For one thing, Major Temple believed in 
the repeal of the Corn Tax, and rode into Tiverton to 
support the Radical candidate—the only man in the 
parish that did so. On the following Sunday the 
labourers, having been persuaded by the farmers that, 
should this measure pass, there would be no work for 
them, pulled up the sods in the churchyard, as they 
came out of church, and pelted him with them till 
he was mud all over. That the farmers and labourers 
should take this view of the case was, of course, not 
unnatural, but there was at least one person in Culm- 
stock who shared Major Temple’s convictions, and 
that was little William Lee, who lived at Red Ball. 
The boy did not at all appreciate the bread he was 
condemned to eat, as the “huds” pricked his throat ; 
and he boldly told a couple of farmers, who rode past 
him earnestly discussing the burning topic of the day, 
that he hoped the Corn Laws would be repealed, and 
then the bread would be of better quality. _ Lee, 
who is no longer little, but a mighty man of commerce 
at Exeter, tells a tragic story of the fate which over- 
took an avaricious farmer, who, some years later, 
borrowed forty or fifty pounds so as to pay his rent, 
whilst he hoarded his corn in the expectation of a 
dearer market. In the meantime Peel’s bill passed, 
the price of corn immediately went down, and the 


76 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


farmer was ruined. This was indeed a “gamble in 
food.” 

Returning to Major Temple, he had lived a hard 
life. His son once described him in ambiguous, yet 
significant, terms as “a working-man, a soldier, who 
had served his country in various parts of the world,” 
and he probably paid small heed to sentiment and 
had wholly forgotten the intense convervatism that 
characterises West Country parishes. Had he remained 
at Culmstock, it is practically certain that he would 
never have lived down the terrible prejudice his 
conduct was bound to create. He had wounded the 
farmer and the labourer just where each was most 
sensitive; and, looking at the matter from their 
respective standpoints, one may surely find some excuse 
for them. But when we have allowed that the major 
was of an unsympathetic disposition and regarded 
men and women with the eyes of a martinet, we have 
made the utmost concession to his detractors, for there 
is abundant evidence that he was thoroughly just, 
extremely regular, and very practical and _business- 
like, which the Culmstock folk, some of them, were 
not. 

On the whole it might be safe to conclude that 
at Culmstock Major Temple was in a somewhat un- 
congenial sphere, but there was one element in the 
population, which in the early part of the last century 
numbered fifteen hundred, that must have attracted his 
regard. The militia camp at Forches Corner was within 
easy distance of Culmstock, and doubtless some of the 
lads in the parish belonged to the constitutional force. 
The yeomanry cavalry was certainly represented in 
the parish, and the non-commissioned officers, as well 


THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS TE 


as the commissioned ones, went by their military titles, 
which were freely accorded them by their admiring 
neighbours. Indeed, so far did their martial calling 
prevail over their civil occupation, that, in chatting 
with old residents, it is sometimes hard to discriminate 
between those carpet-knights and genuine ex-army 
men, who, after many years of hard service, had returned 
to end their days in their native village—or in some- 
body’s native village. 

Whether the Wellington Monument was an attrac- 
tion, or however we may choose to explain it, there 
is no doubt that in the parish of Culmstock, which 
meets the parishes of Wellington, Sampford Arundel, 
and Hemyock at a point between the monument and 
Wrangcombe Hill, there was for some time quite a 
colony of Waterloo heroes. We find there a retired 
army surgeon named Ashford, who kept a pack of 
harriers. Ashford had been wounded, and according 
to Mr. John Pook, a member of a very old Culmstock 
family, the way he came by his hurt was as follows: 
When the French were “ practising ”»—z.e.. manceuvring 
—just before the battle, the doctor thought he would 
do a little reconnoitring on his own account and crept 
under a hedge. Whilst in this position he was struck 
by a ball in the leg ; and, on the circumstance becoming 
known, it became a common saying in the army, and 
afterwards in the village, that “ Ashford paid for peep- 
ing.” Another Waterloo hero, settled at Culmstock, 
was a Captain Williams, who had been an intimate 
of Ashford, and, indeed, owed his life to him. We do 
not know the precise facts of the case, more than 
that Williams, when on active service, had received 
a dangerous gunshot wound in the head, and that 


78 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


Ashford’s skill and devotion had alone, humanly 
speaking, saved him. 

Besides these officers there was a journeyman shoe- 
maker, William Berry by name, who had been a private 
in Major Temple’s old regiment and fought in eighteen 
engagements, including the Battle of Waterloo. Al- 
though now following the peaceful avocation of cobbler, 
he loved to talk of his perilous adventures by flood 
and field, and, from time to time, would stop work 
in order to regale the ’prentices with sensational stories 
of war’s alarms—how he had thrown himself flat on 
his stomach to avoid the effects of a bursting shell, 
and how men had been killed on his right hand 
and on his left. ‘“ Were you ever killed?” once asked 
a Culmstock Peterkin, but the unconscious satire, we 
may be sure, fell unheeded on the excitable son of 
Mars. 

Through Berry have descended some particulars— 
we, of course, will not vouch for their authenticity— 
regarding Major Temple’s life in the army. He was 
known in the regiment by the sobriquet of “ Blueskin,” 
which inevitably reminds one of “ Bluebeard,” possibly 
a family connection of the original. This, however, 
is doubtful. Careful researches have shown us that 
Jack Sheppard had a companion with this nickname, 
and a nag belonging to General Washington was 
likewise so distinguished. Comparison of these cases 
leads to no result, and perhaps one may get on a 
better track—that of fire and brimstone. Brimstone ~ 
is not only employed in the manufacture of gunpowder, 
but burns with a blue flame, which would probably 
leave a blue mark on the skin. Brimstone is further 
associated with the nether regions, to which Major 


THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 79 


Temple, it is said, occasionally referred. He was 
a martinet in his regiment, as well as out of it, and, 
according to the testimony of the said Berry, when 
inordinately enraged at the men, he would shout: “I'll 
send you to Sierra Leone, where there'll be only a sheet 
of brown paper between you and hell.” If Major 
Temple really said this, it is curious, since he himself 
afterwards went out and died in that very place. Need- 
less to say, we intend no offensive or unkind suggestion. 

Another man who had shared in the glories of 
Waterloo and now resided at Culmstock was Sergeant 
Doble. It was commonly reported that in the later 
stages of the engagement the British were ankle-deep 
in blood, and some apprehension was felt that the 
troops might at last give way under the awful strain. 
Doble, a brave and intelligent soldier, was determined 
that his company at least should not set the example, 
and, in his broad Devonshire, he informed the few sur- 
vivors that he would shoot the first man that “renig’d.” 
It is pleasing to record that the Waterloo men at 
Culmstock were sober, steady men, whom everybody 
trusted and who never swore. 

Blackmore’s Sergeant Jakes may be regarded as 
a sort of composite photograph. The novelist doubt- 
less knew both Berry and Doble, but he appears to 
have blended them with another character—-the village 
schoolmaster, who was a certain William Jacobs. 
Jacobs had lost an arm, not in the wars, but in a 
woollen factory. That this way of accounting for Jakes 
is correct, may be demonstrated thus, if demonstration 
be required. The sergeant loved, and his brother 
wedded, that naughty but fascinating damsel, Tamar 
Haddon. Now the parish register, which cannot lie, 


80 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


shows that Robert Jacobs married Elizabeth Haddon. 
The Haddons had been well-to-do people, who could 
walk from Beacon Hill to Hackpen Hill on their own 
land, but they were not thrifty, and so the property 
went from them. The publican’s name was not Walter, 
but John, and he had some spanking daughters, one 
of whom may well have served as artist’s model for 
Tamar. 

We write under correction, but there is reason to 
suspect that the name of Major Temple may be 
entered on the scroll of Waterloo heroes. From some 
remarks of the late Rev. R. B. Carew, rector of Bickleigh, 
who was a schoolfellow and lifelong friend of the late 
Archbishop, we gathered that he understood Major 
Temple to have been present at the battle, and the 
same impression obtained at Culmstock. Moreover, 
we have always been of the opinion that Major Temple 
was a rough prototype, or an ingredient in the character, 
of Colonel Sir Thomas Waldron, Blackmore’s “fine 
old English gentlemen” in Perlycross. The situation 
of Axon certainly agrees far better with the novelist’s 
description of Walderscourt than does Bradfield, the 
ancestral home of the Walronds, except as regards 
the perplexing statement that Beacon Hill was north- 
east of the place, which may have been either a slip 
of memory or a slip of the pen. As against this we 
must set the “facts” that Mr. Penniloe, in directing 
his steps thitherward from the Vicarage, crosses the 
Perle (Culm) by way of a plank bridge a little above 
the church, traverses the meadows and cornland, “ with 
the round Beacon Hill in front of him”; and that 
this path, “saving half a mile of twisting lanes,” leads 
him straight to the house. Waiving this point, let 


THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 81 


us see what Blackmore has to tell of the baronet 
himself : 

“ Sir Thomas Waldron, of Walderscourt, had battled 
as bravely with the sword of steel as the Churchman 
had with the spiritual weapon, receiving damages more 
substantial than the latter can inflict. Although by no 
means invalided, perhaps he had been pleased at first 
to fall into the easy lap of peace. After eight years 
of constant hardships, frequent wounds, and famishing, 
he had struck his last blow at Waterloo, and then settled 
down in the English home, with its comforting cares 
and mild delights.” 

Major Temple was a very good judge of work, and 
paid his labourers and tradesmen punctually every 
week. He used to give his orders each morning from 
his bedroom or dressing-room window, and soon after- 
watds went round to see that they had been properly 
executed. He had a great objection to smoking, 
especially during business hours, and some of the men 
he employed were sadly addicted to the practice. 
Amongst these was Ashton, the carpenter, who was at 
work in the linhay just opposite the house, when he felt 
he must have a whiff or two, and accordingly lit his 
pipe. In a moment or two the major’s footsteps were 
heard approaching, and the carpenter, having hastily 
bestowed his pipe in his waistcoat pocket, resumed 
his task with all diligence. 

“ Ashton,” quoth the major testily, “you’ve been 
smoking again.” 

“No, sir,’ replied the man, with an air of sturdy 
innocence. 

“T say you have,” repeated his employer. “Why, 
the flames are bursting out of your pocket.” 

6 


82 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


The carpenter clapped his hand to his side in conster- 
nation, and found to his dismay that he had set fire 
to his waistcoat, having in the hurry of the moment 
forgotten to tap the contents out of his pipe. After 
enjoying Ashton’s confusion and alarm, Major Temple 
withdrew, without another word, perfectly satisfied that 
the carpenter had received a lesson which would have 
a salutary effect upon him. 

For a martinet, Major Temple, to judge from the 
stories one hears about him, was singularly placable. 
It is remembered that one hot summer day, two 
carpenters—we are not certain whether Ashton was 
one—left a door unhung and went off to the Red Ball 
for refreshment, no drink being supplied in the house. 
As they outstayed the statutory hour, they did not 
return that day, and on the morrow had to face what 
they had good reason to suppose would prove a severe 
ordeal. They skulked out of the way as much as they 
could, but at length the major sent a message requiring 
them to appear before him and answer for their crime. 
Fortunately, he was in a relenting mood. An abject 
“Beg pardon, your honour!” set everything right, and 
the matter was not again referred to. 

With regard to the circumstances of the family, it 
is believed that there was no lack of money whilst 
Major Temple was living, and if neither he nor his sons 
went in for any kind of sport, the reason is alleged 
that they were “too near.” The major was certainly 
mighty particular. One day he found a young boy 
picking up “fir-gogs” just inside his gate, and stopped 
his horse to inquire why he did not pick up the “ gogs ” 
that had fallen outside. When Mrs. Temple caught 
the same boy barking one of the trees in the drive, 


THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 83 


we cannot wonder at her scolding him, albeit he in 
his old age holds himself immaculate and furnishes a 
plausible explanation of the circumstance. 

Major Templewas a short thick-set man,and Frederick, 
in growing up, promised to resemble him. The family 
consisted of three sons, William, Frederick, and John, 
and four daughters. Three of the ladies married, and 
were known in later life as Mrs. Thorold, Mrs. Hugo, 
and Mrs. Mowbray. In the days of Frederick’s boyhood 
the two first had already quitted the parental roof, but 
Mrs. Mowbray, whose Christian name was Catherine, 
was still single, and during the early years of the 
Temples’ residence at Culmstock, a schoolgirl. Jane 
Netta, we believe, remained Miss Temple to the end. 
When their father (whose advanced opinions made 
him obnoxious to his superiors and are thought to 
have been the cause of his banishment) left the parish 
to take up the duties of Lieutenant-Governor of Sierra 
Leone, Miss Catherine accompanied him. His constitu- 
tion, which had probably been undermined by previous 
service, did not withstand that deadly climate very 
long. At first, indeed, it was rumoured that he had 
been shot, but, according to the amended report, he 
had perished from beri-beri. So Miss Catherine re- 
turned alone, and in the division of labour, which was 
essential in an orderly family, became the farmer, Miss 
Netta being the housekeeper. Webber, however, a 
neighbouring agriculturist, was occasionally called in 
to consult. 

The late Archbishop, in his speeches, frequently 
insisted on the extreme poverty—even indigence—in 
which he was brought up. After stating that he was 
only thirteen when his father died, and that, as the 


Cue 
% +. 
> Pig 


84 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


result, he had to earn his own living from the age of 
seventeen, he went on to remark: “ Although I had 
an excellent education, I had experience, nevertheless, 
of a great deal of privation during that time. I knew 
what it was, for instance, to be unable to afford a 
fire on cold days and nights, and I knew what it was 
sometimes to live upon very poor fare. I knew what 
it was—and | think it was the thing that pinched me 
most—to wear patched clothes and patched shoes. 
When I mention these things, I do so in order to make 
you understand how heartily my sympathies go with 
working-men. I believe there is probably at this 
moment not another man in England who can thresh 
better than I could. Threshing is gone out of fashion. 
It is all done by machinery now, and there are very 
few people who learn to thresh. I learnt to plough, 
and I could plough as straight as any man in the parish.” 
It has been asserted, perhaps on the strength of such 
“confessions,” that Major Temple intended his son 
Frederick to be a farmer, but one of that calling, who 
was brought into close contact with the family, is 
altogether opposed to the belief. There was, he thinks, 
no idea whatever of his gaining a livelihood in this 
way. 

In the same speech from which we have taken the 
above quotation, the Archbishop observed : “ My sym- 
pathy has always been from early childhood with those 
who work mainly with their bodies, because I myself 
was brought up amongst them.” The Nortons, who 
dwelt on Maidendown, would, we feel sure, have occupied 
a prominent place in that category, for William Norton, 
now of Halberton, used to fetch young Temple when 
he attended Blundell’s School, and his brother, John 


en 


THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 85 


Norton, who resides at Old Beat, nearer the old home- 
stead, has still several of Major Temple’s whilom 
possessions in his keeping. They include a dagger, 
a pistol, a pick, and an iron bar for driving in posts. 
By the way, Major Temple had his own method of 
dealing with posts, which Norton cannot recollect 
having seen adopted elsewhere. The sharpened ends 
were always burnt before being driven into the soil, the 
object being to harden them and render them less 
liable to decay. Often, he says, he has taken part in the 
operation, in which Master John, boy-like, greatly de- 
lighted. The “ pitching-pick ”—z.e., the implement used 
for tossing hay on to a rick, and for similar purposes 
—bears Major Temple’s initials, “O. T.,” and Norton 
believes that this is the case also with certain hogsheads 
now on Maidendown. The major used to sell his cider 
at so much per hogshead, and the hogsheads were 
removed in a three-wheel butt. Now a three-wheeled 
butt is a sort of large barrow on three low wheels of 
solid wood, and it was used chiefly for drawing earth 
or manure from one part of the farm to another. 

John Temple, the youngest son, was full of mischief. 
He not only sailed toy boats on the pond, but erected 
a small platform, on which, knowing their aversion 
for water, he would deposit cats, and there they 
would sit and mew until Master John was pleased 
to release them. Both Frederick and John were high- 
spirited youths, and Norton well remembers them 
whooping along the roads in the joy of their young 
lives, but perfectly subdued in the presence of their 
mother, whom they loved and respected. 

Although there is no antecedent probability against 
the late Archbishop’s excellence as a ploughman, 


86 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


it is to be regretted that we have merely his own 
attestation of it. In ploughing, as in other accom- 
plishments, experts are apt to be critical, and we 
cannot be sure that his high opinion of himself would 
be endorsed by Hodge. A late eminent professor 
of mathematics at Cambridge, whose parents were 
very poor, worked for a farmer when a boy, and was 
enabled to proceed to the university only through 
the kindness of strangers. On hearing of the young. 
man’s success an old farm hand could hardly credit 
it. “I don’t know about that,” he said, “but he was 
one of the stupidest boys that ever drove plough for 
me. I’ve droed scores of clats of ea’th at the head 
of en.” 

Reverting to Walderscourt for a moment, our 
own real opinion is that Blackmore, in the exercise 
of his novelist’s privilege, transplanted old Bradfield 
Hall to a site nearer Culmstock, just in the same 
way ashe brought the abbey from Dunkeswell; and, 
as we have intimated, the position of Walderscourt 
coincides more or less closely with that of Axon. It 
may be as well to quote the passage in question: 
“Southward stretched the rich Perle [Culm] valley, 
green with meadows beloved by cows, who expressed 
their emotions in the noblest cream; on the north- 
east side was Beacon Hill, sheltering from the bitter 
winds and forming a goodly landmark, while to the 
north and west extended heathery downs, with sweet 
short grass, knolls of Scotch fir, and gorse for ever 
blooming. Across these downs, and well above the 
valley-margin, ran one of the two great western roads, 
broad and smooth as a ballroom floor, and ringing 
some forty times a day with the neigh, and the tramp, 


THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 87 


and the harness rattle of four steeds tossing their heads 
up, and the musical blast of long brass horn, or merry 
notes of key-bugle.” 

A stage or two in those days meant a fortune to 
a man, and it was well known on the western road 
that a certain mayor got about forty miles in a coach 
as his wife's dowry. In the West of England the 
mail served as a regulator, just as the sun on the 
hills acted as a chronometer. How did old roadside 
Jim know the time for easing his linen bag of its 
contents of bread and bacon? By the mail. 

Blackmore gives the names of certain coaches— 
the Magnet, the Defiance, the Quicksilver, and the 
Tallyho! These were undoubtedly the names of actual 
coaches. The Quicksilver, we believe, belonged to 
Devonport ; and, as for the Tallyho! it was described 
to us years ago by an old blacksmith. He said it 
had on the “boot” a figure of Reynard going at 
full speed, with a white tip to his tail. The Exeter 
Telegraph was perhaps the fastest coach on the road. 
There was no racing in the strict sense of the word, but 
sometimes the coachman had all he could do to keep 
his thoroughbred leaders from springing when they 
heard rival bars rattling alongside; and for ordinary 
persons it seems to have been really dangerous to drive 
on the main roads. The coaches changed horses at 
the Red Ball and the Lamb. The former, which stands 
at only a short distance from Axon, has since fallen 
into decay, but then possessed large stabling accommoda- 
tion. Blackmore calls it—no doubt intentionally—the 
Blue Ball; the historical Blue Ball was situated at the 
other end of the Blackdown Range. 

One day in the old coaching time Temple alighted 


88 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


with his luggage at the familiar sign; and with his 
instinct for economy decided not to charter a convey- 
ance, though his impedimenta were too heavy to be 
carried by hand or on his back. However, he was at 
no loss what to do. He knew where Norton senior 
kept his barrow at Maidendown, and without saying a 
word to the owner or anybody else, wheeled it down 
to the inn and brought the portmanteau himself. 

It may be worth mentioning that, when the railway 
had been constructed, it halted for a long time, as regards 
heavy traffic, at Beam Bridge, near Wellington; and 
during this period the Uffculme bells were despatched 
to London, to be recast. The day of their return was 
observed as a parish holiday ; and the Uffculme band 
marched out to the Lamb, on the main turnpike road, 


to welcome them. By-and-by the cry was raised “ They — 


are coming!” and the band started piping to what 
they innocently supposed to be the eagerly awaited 
freight. Instead of that, it turned out to be nothing 
but a passing cider-press ! 

But it is time that we returned to the Temple sisters, 
Catherine and Netta. Both were exemplary young 
ladies, who spent little on dress, that they might have 
the wherewithal to assist their poorer neighbours—and 
they weve poor. There was no wheaten bread in the 
labourer’s home; and, as regards fresh meat, that 
was a luxury seldom enjoyed. The Temples could 
not help to any extent with money gifts, but they 
were very sympathetic. In the hall at Axon was 
a big cupboard containing a variety of things, such 
as payments for work done and goods received tied 
up in small bags, so as to be ready the moment they 
became due. Miss Netta also ran a private dis- 


Photo copyright George A. Deane, Rugby. 


DR. TEMPLE AND HIS MOTHER. 
‘From a photograph taken in the ’fifties. 


THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 89 


pensary completely equipped with domestic remedies ; 
and mothers of families might frequently be seen wend- 
ing their way to Axon, with babies on their arms, to 
apply for some simple drug, proved to be efficacious. 
On Sunday afternoon, when the maids had been packed 
off to church, the young ladies conducted a Sunday 
school for the boys and girls of the neighbourhood, 
and taught them the catechism. The Temples were, 
of course, strict Church people, and Mrs. Temple was 
accustomed to drive to Culmstock Church ina pony- 
carriage. Latterly, Miss Netta rode a donkey. It 
seems to have been quite fashionable at Culmstock for 
ladies to ride donkeys, for the two rich Miss Pooks, 
who married the two Collier brothers, James and John, 
were likewise in the habit of using these safe but woefully 
slow and ungainly quadrupeds. 

Temple himself taught in the Sunday school of the 
village, and there are still people living at Culmstock, 
Uffculme, and elsewhere who attended the school when he 
worked in it. The late Archbishop thus described his 
experiences: “I was at the time just eleven years of 
age, and was not very much of a teacher, I am afraid ; 
and certainly those who had charge of the Sunday 
school did not entrust very much teaching to me. 
But I had to teach the children to say their collects ; 
and I no doubt looked very formidable in the eyes 
of the children, because I found that a single look 
was sufficient to reduce every boy and girl to absolute 
order at once, and a teacher who can secure that is, 
I think, rather successful—at any rate in discipline, 
if not in instruction.” There can be no question as 
to Temple’s success in point of discipline. One 
day certain boys infringed the rules of the schooi, 


' — 
i 
* 


90 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


then held in the old Red Lion premises, and, wishing 
to avoid pains and penalties, resolved to be off and 
not to attend the afternoon service. Young Temple 
divined their intention, and, taking a short cut on the 
right bank of the stream, came up with them near 
the bridge. Here he seized two of the truants, marched 
them to church by the ears, and stood between them 
until the close of the service. 

There was a good deal of the clergyman in Temple, 
even as a boy, and the old folk speak of him with 
positive adoration. “He was a real gentleman,’ say 
they, “and would never pass the poorest person without 
recognition.” This attribute continued to characterise 
him through life; and a Culmstock man, if he was 
at all decent, was always sure of a hearty grip of the 
hand. Norton’s daughter, Mary, who was for some 
time in his service, defined this trait in an epigram. 
“He was my Lord Bishop at Exeter, but Mr. Temple 
anywhere else.’ Those who have met him on Old 
Boys’ Day at Tiverton, which was perhaps the next 


best thing to meet him as a fellow-villager, will under- 


stand what that means. But we are not quite sure 
that Mary was right. When Temple arrived at Exeter, 
he found residing in the city William Lee, who was born 
at Red Ball,’ had attended his sisters’ Sunday school, 
and often incurred a thrashing for showing insufficient 
respect to the allotments at Maidendown, which Major 
Temple had been at such infinite pains in providing. 
The finding of William was real treasure-trove to 
Temple, by whose invitation he spent many evenings 
at the Palace, and who despatched him on confidential 
errands to his estate on the Blackdowns. 
1 Red Ball is the style of a hamlet named after the inn. 


' 


THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS gI 


Between the Archbishop’s account of his entrance 
on the path of learning and that of the villagers there 
is a curious discrepancy, which we cannot explain. 
Temple himself stated that, until he went to Blundell’s 
School, Tiverton, he received no instruction except 
from his mother, but we have been told by several 
independent witnesses that, whilst at Culmstock, he 
attended a school kept by a Mr. Kelso. One thing 
is certain—namely, that neither Kelso nor his school 
was mythical; since we have heard enough about 
them to satisfy the most sceptical as to their corporeal 
existence. It is not a question merely of Mr. Kelso. 
There was a Mrs. Kelso and three Miss Kelsos, and 
they were all, apparently, supported by the husband 
and father’s professional earnings. As for the school, 
the building in which it was carried on had been lately 
an inn called the Red Lion, and an interesting specimen 
of its class. By the way, as this sign is fairly common 
in the West Country, the reader may be glad to learn 
its origin. 

Prior to the union of England and Scotland the 
red lion, with two unicorns for supporters, was the 
national emblem on the Scottish coat-of-arms. James I., 
substituted the lion for the wyvern of the last of 
the Tudors—not much to the liking of his new subjects, 
who gave vent to their disappointment in the nursery 
rhyme’: 

The lion and the unicorn fighting for the crown, 
The lion beat the unicorn all round the town. 


The arms thus altered were ordered to be displayed in 
all churches, law-courts, town-halls, etc., and the loyalty 
of the Bonifaces voluntarily extended the practice. 


7 


Q2 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


The Red Lion at Culmstock was supposed to 
be coeval with the church tower, chiefly on the ground 
of the “race” masonry common to both; in other 
words, the two buildings were constructed of stones 
arranged in regular courses, the stones in each course 
being of uniform height. Another feature which gave 
distinction to the Red Lion was a handsome porch, 
said to have been glued on to the body of the building 
by the application of hot mortar. Not being a 
practical mason, the writer would prefer not to express 
an opinion on the likelihood of this story, but one 
may readily believe that the porch was a great con- 
venience, as well as ornament, to the ancient inn—at 
any rate, in the eyes of its patrons. 

After a while the Red Lion either fell on evil 
days or was coveted for higher use. Mr. Kelso 
came, saw, and metamorphosed the premises into a 
private school. 

The villagers say that not only Temple, but his 
sister Catherine was educated at the ci-devant Red 
Lion, and some of them can remember the compact 
figure of the major, as he stood outside and called 
“Kit! Kit!” to attract his daughter’s attention. As 
one or two of the Archbishop’s school-fellows—respect- 
able people—are still living, it seems nothing less 
than an outrage to doubt their word, and yet his own 
assertion is rather more than a tacit denial—a flat 
contradiction. On the whole, we are inclined to 
believe that Temple’s memory on this point must 
have played him false. We are perfectly sure that 
so frank and straightforward a man—one, more- 
over, who rather exaggerated than minimised the 
straitened circumstances of his youth, would never 


THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 93 


have hesitated in acknowledging any benefit he may 
have derived from Mr. Kelso’s tuition. Probably, 
therefore, his stay in the school was very brief and 
had been totally erased from his recollection. The 
Red Lion, alas! no longer exists, the site having 
been thrown into the churchyard. 

In 1872, at a distribution of prizes to the successful 
students of the Exeter Science Classes—then in their 
infancy—Dr. Temple bore witness to his mother’s 
“admirable mode of teaching,’ thanks to which he 
became a tolerably good arithmetician “at a very 
early age.” When, he said, he went to school at 
thirteen, he did not think there was anything in 
arithmetic he could not do. Mrs. Temple’s system of 
teaching the Bishop described as keeping up his practice 
in the elementary rules. When he reached division, 
he had to do sums in addition, subtraction, and 
multiplication. From the beginning to the end she 
never allowed him to let go the commencement. 

Two years before, on a similar occasion at Plymouth, 
he had volunteered a statement from which it appears 
that Major Temple sometimes assisted his wife in in- 
structing their children. The newspaper report, which 
may, of course, have been inaccurate, is as follows: 
“On presenting a work on algebra the Bishop remarked 
to the pupil that when he was himself nine years of 
age, his father taught him the four rules of algebra, 
and then he came to a page which he could not under- 
stand. He read over that page day after day for more 
than three months, and then he found the meaning of 
it. He mentioned this to them to show the necessity 
and advantage of perseverance.” Assuming this re- 
port to be correct, which it seems fair to do, it is 


"ae 
> 


94 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 4 


inconsistent with Temple’s subsequent avowal that he 
went to Blundell’s School taught by his mother alone ; 
and, if his gallant father had a finger in the pie—why, 
the villagers may tell truth, and good Mr. Kelso may 
have had a finger in it too. 

Among the Temples’ more intimate acquaintances 
the first place must be accorded to the Blackmore 
family at the vicarage. (Major Temple was for a brief 
period churchwarden, and his bold signature is still 
legible in the parish books.) As a parish clergyman 
the Rev. John Blackmore displayed considerable energy, 
especially in the view of the fact that he was not 
the vicar of Culmstock, but merely the curate-in- 
charge. One of his achievements was the erection 
of the National School, which stands opposite the 
church and is now only used as a Sunday school. 
In order to raise funds for the building a bazaar was 
held, and the young Temples, Frederick and John, 
made and sold walking-sticks on the occasion. Richard 
Doddridge Blackmore, the curate’s son, tells us that, 
during his father’s residence, the old church was 
suddenly “found wanting—wanting foundation, and 
broad buttress, solid wall, and sound timbered roof, 
and even deeper hold on earth for the high soar of 
the tower ;” but, if we may treat Perlycross as history, 
and the novelist encourages us so to do, there is reason 
to think that he somewhat exaggerates Mr. “ Penniloe’s” 
architectural exploits. An inscription in the church 
informs us that the north aisle and clerestory were 
erected in 1825. _Now we have ascertained from an 
inspection of the register that Mr. Blackmore’s first 
baptism is dated May 31st, 1835, and his last October 
4th, 1841. Hence it would seem that the main work 


THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 95 


of restoration had been carried out some ten years 
before his time. Still, there is no doubt that important 
alterations were made under Mr. Blackmore’s inspiration. 
Clerk “ Channing’s” grandson summarises his achieve- 
ments as follows: He built the National School ; supplied 
the first “ hand-organ,” and the carved ceilings of the 
north and south aisle of the church; and re-erected the 
“communion-screen” in the chancel. Nobody knew, 
he says, from what source Mr. Blackmore obtained 
the necessary funds, but it was supposed that his wife’s 
relations were rich. (Perlycross mentions the Dean 
and Chapter of Exeter as contributors). Mr. Channon 
states that he well remembers Parson Blackmore, who 
has often given him a good thrashing; and amongst 
his mementoes is a photograph of his corrector, taken 
from a pencil-drawing. 

Concerning the beautiful stone-screen of which so 
much is made in the opening chapters of Perlycross, 
Mr. Rundle believes that it was first shifted from its 
original position at the entrance of the chancel in 
1799. At the tower end it served as a screen for 
the ringers, unless the account in Perlycross is to be 
received as historically correct—viz., that it was 
plastered up in the west wall, and rediscovered by 
Mr. Blackmore, who set it up—there is no question 
about this—as a reredos. 

One of Mr. Blackmore’s “notes” was zeal for tem- 
perance. Culmstock, at ordinary times, was not a 
specially drunken place, though the Devonshire rustic 
had then, as now, a hearty appreciation of beer and 
cider, and on fair days—May 21st and Michaelmas 
—was conscientiously bibulous. On such occasions 
the Three Tuns, the Ilminster, etc, were reinforced 


ee Ely 
7 


96 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


with five or six “bush-houses ”—extemporised inns. 
The occupiers easily obtained licenses, and thereupon 
proceeded to decorate the fronts with boughs of oak, 
one on each side of the door, thereby intimating to 
all whom it might concern that liquor was on sale 
within. The normal quiet of the village was broken 
up by the arrival of a horde of navvies for the con- 
struction of the White Ball tunnel. Navvies are 
_ always a rather lawless race, whose invasion of a 
neighbourhood bodes ill for the cause of order and 
- sobriety ; and for their benefit, primarily, Mr. Black- 
more instituted temperance meetings. It is needless 
to point out the interest of this circumstance, having 
regard to Dr. Temple’s strenuous advocacy of this 
branch of social reform. 

The curate-in-charge had three sons and two 
daughters. A daughter, Charlotte Ellen, and a son, 
Frederick Platt, were born to him during his residence 
at Culmstock; and one of the daughters married a 
pupil of her father, who, as may be gleaned from 
“R. Ds” Lales from the Telling House, eked out his 
income by reading with young men. Possibly he was 
the “Bude Light.” A sister-in-law of Mrs. Trickey, 
an old lady still living in the village and nearly 
ninety years of age, was servant in the Blackmore 
family for the long period of thirty years, and her 
niece, Ellen Trickey, lived with the Rev. John Blackmore 
at Ashford, near Barnstaple (whither he removed on 
leaving Culmstock), and with Mr. R. D. Blackmore 
at Teddington. The original of Thyatira Moggridge 
was Lydia Shapland, who was still alive a few years 
ago, and in receipt of a pension from Mr. Blackmore. 
Thyatira, it will be remembered, was converted by 


THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 97 


a stroke of her master’s readiness “from the doctrines 
of the ‘antipzdo-Baptists ’—as they used to call them- 
selves—to those of the Church of England.” Perhaps 
it would be too much to expect from Mr. Blackmore 
any keen sympathy with the Culmstock dissenters, 
but they certainly called themselves by no such name 
as he attributed to them. The Culmstock Baptists, 
moreover, have good right to pride themselves on the 
history of their cause, since their place of worship at 
Prescott is one of the few surviving chapels built at 
the time of the Five Mile Act. Of course, it has been 
grossly “restored,” though long after Parson Blackmore’s 
time. Such traditions, however, do not appeal to the 
average country clergyman, and Mr. Blackmore found all 
his time taken up in combating the heresy as it asserted 
itself in his own day. He carried on an active con- 
troversy with a Baptist minister called Gabriel, on 
doctrinal points; and Mr. John Pook had a printed 
pamphlet, giving both sides of the argument, in his 
possession, till a few years ago he threw it in the fire 
as useless. 

In his local romance R. D. Blackmore makes a 
good deal of the Tremletts, who are undoubtedly 
an old Culmstock race. They are heard to speak of 
“father” and “grandfather,” and the impression prevails 
that they have been in the parish for at least two 
hundred years. They are accordingly referred to as 
“ancient,” but “towards property” they are not known 
to have possessed any. Within the last sixty or 
seventy years, at any rate, they have been only 
labourers. Old Betty Tremlett lived in a cottage at 
Millmoor, and the Rev. John Blackmore took a great 
interest in her. She is described as having been a 


ri 


98 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


“humble Christian woman ;” and one of the parson’s 
daughters—a Mrs. Faunthorpe, if we caught the name 
aright—used to send her money regularly. The boys, 
unsympathetic as boys usually are, called her “ Betty 
Poorly,” because she was always ailing; and she was 
probably a frequent occupant of the old “dropping” 
chair. This institution is unknown in our days, but 
R. D. Blackmore explains in a note that “in country 
parishes an easy-chair for the use of the sick and 
elderly was provided from the Communion offerings, 
and lent to those most in need of it. When not so 
required, it was kept under cover, and regarded with 
some reverence, from its origin and use.” 

It is remarkable that on the Blackdowns has 
flourished for many generations a numerous clan of 
Blackmores, most of them belonging to the farming 
class. A good old friend of ours who is connected 
with the clan through his wife is strongly persuaded 
that the novelist’s family originally sprang from the 
same stock, but a careful examination of a very full 
pedigree submitted to us failed to reveal their names. 
Partly for this reason, and partly on the ground that 
we believe the reverend gentleman and his distinguished 
son to have been of North Devon descent, we are unable’ 
to accept our friend’s theory. Still, the coincidence, if 
no more, is interesting. 

Temple was confirmed by a very extraordinary 
father-in-God, whom, curiously, he was destined to 
succeed in the see of Exeter. Dr. Philpotts’ life 
abounded in controversies, of which we do not propose 
to say much, but, in many quarters, they made him 
very unpopular. For a long time he vehemently 
opposed the Catholic Emancipation Bill, and in 1828 


THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 99 


went so far as to declare that, rather than assent to 
that measure, George IV. must lay his head on the 
block. Yet the very next year Philpotts himself gave 
way, and was appointed to the bishopric of Exeter, 
whereupon “H. B.,” the caricaturist, drew a picture 
of him as a voracious rat with a mitre on its head. 
As bishop, Philpotts resisted the passage of the 
Reform Bill, and got himself so much disliked that he 
was hissed in the streets of Exeter, and burnt in effigy 
in his old parish of Stanhope. 

Such a vigorous personality naturally gave scope 
for scores of anecdotes, of which we will find room for 
two. One relates to his residence at Corpus Christi 
College, Oxford, and betrays a tart humour. Though 
little disposed to conviviality, he was persuaded to 
join a wine party, in which, after the student who 
sat next him had sung, “ Here’s to thee, Tom Brown,” 
young Mr. Philpotts was reminded that it was his 
turn to contribute a story. ‘“ Well then,” said he, “if 
I must tell a story, it is that I should like to hear 
Mr. So-and-so sing another song.” This first has, at 
least, the merit of being more pleasant than some of 
his later sayings. 

During Lord Grey’s administration Dr. Philpotts 
first scandalised and then amused the Peers by his 
onslaughts on the opposite party. On becoming 
Prime Minister and leader of the House, Lord Mel- 
bourne thought he would try to curb his fury; so, 
turning to the Archbishop of Canterbury, he begged 
leave to tell him a story. He did not say, “I should 
like to hear that right reverend prelate sing that song 
again.” The story he told was this. A _ warlike 
prince-bishop of the middle ages was defeated and 


100 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


captured by the Imperial'troops. Thereupon the Pope 
sent his legate to the Emperor with the demand, 
“Release my son.” By way of reply the secular 
monarch sent back to the Pope a suit of armour which 
the bishop had worn in the battle. “And now,” quoth 
Lord Melbourne, appealing to the Primate, “I ask you, 
as the Emperor then asked the Pope—Is this thy son’s 
coat?” The House laughed, while the Archbishop 
smiled and shook his head. But the militant Dr. 
Philpotts sat undismayed. 

We have referred to Temple’s family, his earliest 
teachers, and his spiritual masters and pastors; and 
now, as Lord Melbourne said, we may venture to put 
in a word about the choirmaster. The parish clerk, 
Channon, was in no way remarkable. He loved his pipe 
and his glass of ale, and “dooed his duty”—and that 
is all. Mr. William Collier was an altogether different 
sort of man. He could play almost any instrument, 
was passionately fond of music, and joined the choir 
before he was five! Although still remembered for 
his musical talents in his native village, Mr. Collier 
was known over a much wider area for his mastership 
of a pack of otter-hounds, in which office he succeeded 
his father, Mr. John Collier, who was very squeamish 
about the premature decease of the hunted otter, and 
essentially a terror to evil-doers in the Culmstock 
country, even to the extent of being harsh. Having 
often accompanied Mr. William Collier in his wading 
expeditions up and down stream, we cannot describe 
him better than as a sporting Temple, for, there is no 
doubt about it, he would have order, and the same is 
true of his father before him. 

An interesting story is told as to the way William 


Bist 


THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS IOI 


Collier became master. When he was sixteen or seven- 
teen years of age, he was posted with another boy to 
guard a “stickle’—ze, to prevent the otter escaping 
downstream. The water was bumpy and discoloured, 
and his father, by way of precaution, and without saying 
anything to the boys, posted two older individuals 
farther down. Young Collier soon discovered the ruse, 
and, regarding it as a serious aspersion on his sports- 
manship, desired his father, the same day at dinner, 
to give him the hounds for once, “and,” said he, “I 
will show you what I can do.” The next morning a 
draw took place in the Yarty near Kilmington, and 
after toiling for two hours or more, the young master 
brought to bank a dog-otter, weighing twenty-four 
pounds, which he carried home as a trophy to his proud 
and delighted sire. 

In Mr. Collier's youth hounds had frequently to do 
long weary road work before they reached the river- 
side. Otter-hunting is still the sport of the early riser 
and the man who would enjoy to the full his day with 
the hounds must be extremely keen and not easily tired. 
But compared with the performances of the older school, 
the work of the modern follower of the otter-hounds 
is mere child’s play. Ina letter of Mr. Collier’s, quoted 
in the Badminton volume, he tells how in the days 
before railways he left Hillmoor at two o'clock in 
the morning, jogged on to Exebridge, left his pony 
there, then drew up the Barle, and killed his otter 
on the way. Then a crust of bread and cheese at 
Withypool, and at it again, over Winsford Hill to the 
Exe, where he killed another otter, picked up his pony 
at Exebridge, and back again with tired hounds the same 
night to Hillmoor, thus covering at least sixty miles, 


102 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


During the last six years of his career Mr. Collier, 
at the invitation of the Hon. G. Lascelles, paid an 
annual visit to Hampshire, where his skill and patience 
in the chase excited immense admiration. He once 
hunted a trail in the New Forest for sixteen miles, and 
killed—a simply unprecedented feat. Mr. William 
Collier, like his nephew, Mr. Frederick Collier, the 
present master, was educated at Blundell’s School, 
Tiverton, of which we shall presently hear more in 
connection with Temple and others. 

Before bringing this chapter to a close it may be 
well to direct attention to two or three little matters 
about which there hangs a certain amount of obscurity. 
Even in Culmstock may be found persons possessed 
with the idea that the late Archbishop was a native of 
the place, and recently some visitors had pointed out to 
them at Axon the very room in which he was born. 
It is commonly stated that this event occured on 
November 30th, 1821, at Santa Maura, in the Ionian 
Isles, but it seems possible that this account is a trifle 
inaccurate. Several years ago a young lady, who had 
been acting as governess in a family at Culmstock, 
became a patient at the Great Northern Hospital, where 
she was visited by an aged clergyman who was interested 
in hearing about Temple’s early home. This mysterious 
divine, whom we have not succeeded in tracing, claimed 
to be well informed as to the circumstances of Temple’s 
birth, which he affirmed took place at sea, Mrs. 
Temple and her infant being soon afterwards landed 
at Santa Maura, then, like the rest of the Ionian Isles, 
a part of the British Empire. 

Speaking at Exeter on one occasion, Dr. Temple 
remarked, “I have been bound up with the diocese of 


=i 
= 


THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 103 


Exeter, which then embraced Cornwall, from my earliest 
childhood, because all my ancestors belong to Cornwall, 
and my earliest years were spent in Devon. I belonged 
to a Devonshire parish from the time I was nine years 
old ; I was educated at a Devonshire school ; to college 
I took with me a Devonshire scholarship; and I may 
add that I found friendships there which I trust will 
never be broken.” The Devonshire parish to which 
the bishop (as he then was) alluded was doubtless 
Culmstock, but it would seem from another statement 
that his first experience of Devonshire life and scenery 
was obtained in the neighbourhood of Barnstaple. On 
January 12th, 1870, in response to the toast of his 
health, he observed in the music hall of that town, 
“As I was saying this morning to the Mayor, I feel 
here more at home than anywhere else in England. 
I was born abroad—in the Ionian Isles—a subject of 
her Majesty in one of her dependencies, and I did not 
come to England until I was nine years old—or nearly 
so—and all my earliest recollections of England be- 
long to this part of Devonshire. Here it was that I 
spent some considerable time before I went to school 
farther south at Tiverton, and all these hills and these 
beautiful streams and the scenery seem to me as if they 
were part of my very self, because I seem to know 
them as forming part of my earliest recollections of 
anything. Since that time I have come back often 
and often to these parts. I have walked with my own 
legs over most of these hills, and seen with my own 
eyes much of that beautiful scenery which lies around 
here.” 

We have made persevering inquiries at Barnstaple 
with respect to this connection, but the oldest inhabitants 


104. EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


can throw no light on the subject, and the probability 
is that the family occupied lodgings in the town for 
a few months before settling down at Axon. 

One more mystery. In Culmstock church there is 
a beautiful stained-glass window erected, it is believed, 
to the memory of Major Temple. The window is situated 
at the east end of the nave, and cannot fail to be seen 
by any one immediately on entering the church. Yet 
its history is practically unknown. It was placed there 
many years ago, but there is no inscription or tablet to 
indicate when or by whom. As far as the vicar can 
ascertain there is no entry on the subject in the church 
records, and nobody at Culmstock has any idea how 
it came to be erected. Alike to the visitor and the 
churchgoer it is merely an ornament. Some years 
ago the window needed attention, and in reply to the 
vicar’s appeal the late Archbishop at once forwarded a 
sufficient sum to cover the cost of repair. He declined, 
however, to acquiesce in the vicar’s desire that a tablet 
should be placed underneath, nor would he state by 
whom the window was erected. 


CHAPTER, .V 
JOHN POPHAM AND PETER BLUNDELL 


HE chief hero of the town of Wellington, which 
holds his bones, is beyond question Sir John 
Popham. If all be true that report speaks of him 
he must have been a most remarkable and eccentric 
character, and some of the passages in his life were 
not good, though romantic. Born about 1531 at 
Huntsworth, in Somerset, he is stated to have been 
stolen when a child by the gipsies, who kept him with 
them for some time, and, ere they parted from him, 
branded and disfigured him for life. Later, ’tis said, 
he performed some more than questionable feats on 
the Kent road. Issuing from a Southwark inn, he 
would lie close on Shooter’s Hill and waylay travellers 
from the Continent proceeding to London by this 
road, and as often as not rich enough to be worth 
plundering. Referring to this period in his career, 
Fuller remarks that he was “as stout and skilful a 
man at sword and buckler as any in that age, and 
wild enough in his recreations.” 

At length Master Popham turned over a new leaf, 
and that arch-gossip Aubrey has told us how this 
very desirable reformation was brought about. After 
repeating that for several years he “addicted himself 
but little to the laws, but bad company, and was wont 


I05 


106 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


to take a purse with them,” he goes on, “His wife 
considered her and his situation, and at last prevailed 
with him to lead another life, and to stick to the 
study of the law, which, upon her importunity, he did, 
being then about thirty years old. He spake to his 
wife to provide a very good entertainment for his 
comrades to take leave of them; and after that day 
fell extremely hard to his study, and profited ex- 
ceedingly. He was a strong, stout man, and could 
endure to sit at it day and night.” 

Here we are concerned with Popham rather as a 
Somerset worthy than as a judge and politician, and 
of his public career we can say but little. It may 
be recorded, however, that as Attorney-General he 
prosecuted the beautiful and unfortunate Mary Queen 
of Scots, while, as Lord Chief Justice, it fell to his lot 
to condemn that gallant West-countryman, Sir Walter 
Raleigh, which, it is just to observe, he did in feeling 
terms. He also pronounced sentence of death on Guy 
Fawkes and the Gunpowder Plotters—a circumstance 
that would have excited greater interest at one time 
than it does now, the Fifth of November having ceased 
to be remembered with the same fiery enthusiasm 
as of old. Another distinction of Popham’s—what some 
would call a “feather in his cap’”—was his share in 
the colonisation of Virginia and New England. On 
this side of the Atlantic we tend to associate the 
memory of those days with the achievements of our 
splendid mariners, Drake and Grenville, and if we do 
not forget Raleigh, have a trick of ignoring the solid 
services of men like Popham, who, nevertheless, did 
yeoman’s work for civilisation. In America the name 
of the great Chief Justice is still recalled with gratitude 


_ JOHN POPHAM AND PETER BLUNDELL 107 


and admiration. Popham obtained the charters both 
of the London and Plymouth companies; and at the 
mouth of the Kennebec River in Maine stands the 
following inscription: “The first colony on the shores 
of New England was founded here August 19th, 1607, 
under George Popham.” Now this George Popham was 
the nephew of the Chief Justice, by whom he and 
Raleigh and Gilbert were sent out, and who is des- 
cribed as the very soul of the expedition. No wonder, 
then, if at Popham celebrations he is honoured as “the 
man under the shadow of whose great name was laid 
the foundation of the colossal empire of the Western 
World.” 

It is unlucky for Sir John Popham that from the 
sixteenth to the nineteenth century he was the victim 
of a circumstantial slander, which it is too much to 
say has now received its quietus. Not that its base- 
lessness is at all in question, but when a poet of Sir 
Walter Scott’s popularity gives support to a legend, it 
acquires not merely a new lease of life, but stronger 
and deeper roots and more wide-spreading branches 
than if it had been confined to the whispers of the 
country-side or the pages of an old book. The 
twenty-seventh canto of Rokeby consists of the following 
ballad : 


“And whither would you lead me then?” 
Quoth the Friar of Orders Grey: 

And the ruffians twain replied again, 
“ By a dying woman to pray.” 


“T see,” he said, “a lovely sight, 
A sight bodes little harm, 

A lady as a lily bright, 
With an infant.on her arm.” 


i? 
Poe % 


108 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


‘Then do thine office, Friar Grey, 
And see thou shrive her free; 

Else shall the sprite that parts to-night 
Fling all its guilt on thee. 


“Let mass be said and trentals read, 
When thou'rt to convent gone, 

And bid the bell of St. Benedict 
Toll out its deepest tone.” 


The shrift is done, the Friar is gone, 
Blindfolded as he came; 

Next morning all in Littlecot Hall. 
Were weeping for their dame. 


Wild Darell is an alter’d man, 
The village crones can tell ; 

He looks pale as clay, and strives to pray, 
If he hears the convent bell. 


If prince or peer cross Darell’s way, 
He'll beard him in his pride— 

If he meet a Friar of Orders Grey, 
He droops and turns aside. 


This ballad is founded on a tradition supplied to Sir 
Walter by Lord Webb Seymour, whose account, as 
the poet observes, ‘contains an exquisite picture of an 
old English hall (which by the way, is still the property 
of the Popham family) and deserves to be reproduced 
in full. 

“ Littlecote House stands in a low and homely situa- 
tion. On three sides it is surrounded by a park, that 
spreads over an adjoining hill; on the fourth, by meadows 
which are watered by the River Kennet. Close on one 
side of the house is a thick grove of lofty trees, along the 
verge of which runs one of the principal avenues to it 
through the park. It is an irregular building of great 
antiquity, and was probably erected about the time of 


JOHN POPHAM AND PETER BLUNDELL 109 


the termination of feudal warfare, when defence came 
no longer to be an object ina country mansion. Many 
circumstances, however, in the interior of the house 
seem appropriate to feudal times. The hall is very 
spacious, floored with stones, and lighted by transom 
windows, that are clothed with casements. Its walls 
are hung with old military accoutrements that have 
long been left a prey to rust. At one end of the hall 
is a range of coats of mail and helmets, and there is 
on every side abundance of old-fashioned pistols and 
guns, many of them with matchlocks. Immediately 
below the cornice hangs a row of leathern jerkins, 
made in the form of a shirt, supposed to have been 
worn as armour by the vassals. A large oak table, 
reaching nearly from one end of the room to the 
other, might have feasted the whole neighbourhood, 
and an appendage to one end of it made it answer 
at other times for the old game of shuffle-board. 
“The rest of the furniture is in a suitable style 
particularly an armchair of cumbrous workmanship, 
constructed of wood, curiously turned, with a high 
back and triangular seat, said to have been used by 
Judge Popham in the reign of Elizabeth. The entrance 
into the hall is at one end by a low door, communicating 
with a passage that leads from the outer door in the 
front of the house to a quadrangle within ; at the other 
it opens upon a gloomy staircase, by which you ascend 
to the first floor, and, passing the doors of some bed- 
chambers, enter a narrow gallery, which stands along 
the back front of the house from one end to the other 
of it, and looks upon an old garden. This gallery is 
hung with portraits, chiefly in the Spanish dress of 
the sixteenth century. In one of the bedrooms, which 


110 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


you pass in going towards the gallery, is a bedstead 
with blue furniture, which time has now made dingy 
and threadbare, and in the bottom of one of the bed- 
curtains you are shown a place where a small piece 
has been cut out and sewn in again—a circumstance 
which serves to identify the scene of the following 
story : 

“It was on a dark rainy night in the month of 
November, that an old midwife sat musing by her 
cottage fireside, when on a sudden she was startled 
by a loud knocking at the door. On opening it she 
found a horseman, who told her that her assistance 
was required immediately by a person of rank, and 
that she should be handsomely rewarded ; but that 
there were reasons for keeping the affair a strict secret, 
and therefore she must submit to be blindfolded, and 
to be conducted in that condition to the bedchamber 


of the lady. With some hesitation the midwife con-" 


sented ; the horseman bound her eyes, and placed her 
on a pillion behind him. After proceeding in silence 
for many miles, through rough and dirty lanes, they 
stopped, and the midwife was led into a house which, 
from the length of her walk through the apartments, 
as well as the sounds about her, she discovered to be 
the seat of wealth and power. When the bandage was 
removed from her eyes she found herself in a bed- 
chamber, in which were the lady on whose account 
she had been sent for and a man of a haughty and 
ferocious aspect. The lady was delivered of a fine boy. 
Immediately the man commanded the midwife to 
give him the child, and catching it from her he hurried 
across the room, and threw it on the back of the fire 
that was blazing in the chimney. The child, however, 


JOHN POPHAM AND PETER BLUNDELL Ill 


was strong, and, by its struggles, rolled itself upon the 
hearth, when the ruffian again seized it with fury, 
and in spite of the intercession of the midwife, and the 
more piteous entreaties of the mother, thrust it under 
the grate, and, raking the live coals upon it, soon put 
an end to its life. 

“The midwife, after spending some time in affording 
all the relief in her power to the wretched mother, was 
told that she must be gone. Her former conductor 
appeared, who again bound her eyes, and conveyed 
her behind him to her own house; he then paid her 
handsomely and departed. The midwife was strongly 
agitated by the horrors of the preceding night, and 
she immediately made a deposition of the facts before 
a magistrate. Two circumstances afforded hopes of 
detecting the house in which the crime had been com- 
mitted ; one was that the midwife, as she sat by the 
bedside, had, with a view to discover the place, cut 
out a piece of the bed-curtain, and sewn it in again; 
the other was that as she descended the staircase 
she had counted the steps. Some suspicions fell upon 
one Darell, at that time the proprietor of Littlecote 
House and the domain around it. The house was 
examined and identified by the midwife, and Darell 
was tried at Salisbury for the murder. By corrupting 
his judge, he escaped the sentence of the law; but © 
broke his neck, by a fall from his horse in hunting, 
in a few months after. The place where this happened 
is still known by the name of Darell’s stile—a spot 
to be dreaded by the peasant whom the shades of evening 
have overtaken on his way. 

“Littlecote House is two miles from Hungerford, 
in Berkshire, through which the Bath road passes. The 


Be 


II2 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


fact occurred in the reign of Elizabeth. All the 
important circumstances I have given exactly as they 
are told in the country; some trifles only are added 
either to render the whole connected or to increase the 
impression.” 

Aubrey’s correspondence is much more precise and 
gives us to see Sir John Popham’s supposed part in 
the business. 

“Sir ... Dayrell, of Littlecote in Com. Wilts, having 
gott his lady o’ waiting woman with child, when her 
travell came, sent a servant with a horse for a midwife, 
whom he was to bring hood-winked. She was brought 
and layd the woman, but as soon as the child was 
born she sawe the knight take the child, and murther 
it, and burn it in the fire in the chamber. She having 
done her businesse, was extraordinarily rewarded for 
her paines, and sent blindfolded away. This horrid 
action did much run in-her mind, and she had a desire 
to discover it, but knew not where ’twas. She con- 
sidered with herself the time she was riding, and how 
many miles she might have rode at that rate in that 
time, and that it must be some great person’s house, 
for the roome was 12 foot high; and she should 
know the chamber if she sawe it. She went to a 
Justice of the Peace, and search was made. The very 
chamber found. The Knight was brought to his tryall ; 
and, to be short, this judge had this noble house, 
parke, and manner, and (I think) more, for a bribe to 
save his life. 

“Sir John Popham gave sentence according to law, 
but being a great person, and a favourite, he procured 
a nolle prosequt.” 

Neither of these versions appears to have had any 


JOHN POPHAM AND PETER BLUNDELL 113 


foundation in fact, the truth being that “Wild Darell” 
died in his bed at Littlecote several years before 
Popham became a judge. The two men, however, were 
relations, and when Popham was Attorney-General 
William Darrell, the last of his race who owned 
Littlecote, constantly repaired to him for advice in 
connection with his interminable law-suits. When the 
unfortunate man died in 1589 Popham purchased the 
estate, in a perfectly regular way, from the creditors. 
But not content with this beautiful seat he also, it is 
said, built him a house at Wellington, where the old 
Court now stands, and a relic of the original edifice 
survives, we are told, in a Tudor doorway. It is 
very likely that Chief Justice Popham made consider- 
able alterations in Wellington Court, but there is some 
doubt as to whether he built this residence. Tradition 
assigns its erection to the fabulous hero Guy, Earl of 
Warwick, who lived in Saxon times. This of course 
is absurd, but it is possible that the pilgrim-soldier, 
whose fame was handed down in many a chap-book, may 
have been confused with Guy de Beauchamp, Earl of 
Warwick, who flourished in the reign of Edward II. 

Of Popham’s life at Wellington would that we could 
tell something, but frankly, we cannot. This, however, 
we know, that in old age he “graced” the town with 
his presence, that he was “a great benefactor to it” 
at his death, and that when he departed this life in 1607 
he was buried in the parish church, where a magnificent 
monument that still exists was erected to his memory. 

The local legends, reflecting the ingratitude which 
so often pursues the philanthropist, even when dead, 
are generally unfavourable. Perhaps this is because 
Popham acquired an unenviable reputation as a “ hanging 

8 


II4 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


judge,” and, in this connection, we naturally cannot 
forget the Darell scandal, reports of which may have 
been carried to Wellington and biassed the popular 
mind. Whatever the explanation may be there is no 
doubt as to the fact, as certain accounts abundantly 
testify. Before, however, we proceed to deal with these, 
it may be as well to cite another of Aubrey’s cock- 
and-bull stories, for although it does not concern 
Popham himself, it has got attached to his family, 
and appears to have been culled on the spot. 

“At the hall in Wellington, in the county of 
Somerset, the ancient seat of the Pophams, and which 
was this Sir John’s, Lord Chief Justice (but query if 
he did not buy it) did hang iron shackles, of which 
the tradition of the country is that long ago one of 
the Pophams (lord of the place) was taken and kept 
a slave by the Turks for a good while, and that by his 
lady’s great piety and continual prayers he was brought 
to this place by an invisible power with these shackles 
on his legs, which were hung up as a memorial and 
continued till the house (being a garrison) was burnt. 
All the people steadfastly believe the truth hereof.” 

It will be remarked that it was his wife’s devotion, 
and no goodness of his own, that moved Heaven to 
work this miracle for Popham’s ancestor. Still, the 
legend may pass as of neutral tint. As regards the 
descendant, if the country-people’s belief goes for any- 
thing, his harshness met in the end with a terrible 
requital. On the top of Wellington Hill, to the west 
of the monument, is a copse, wherein is a gully yclept 
Wilscombe Bottom, adorned with a waterfall. The little 
stream sinks into a hole with a floor of soft marl, 
and then goes on its way towards Bryant’s Farm. 


JOHN POPHAM AND PETER BLUNDELL Il5 


The hole is the thing,—what do you suppose it is called ? 
Why, “Popham’s Pit ;” and it is regarded as one of 
the by-entrances to those— 


Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace 
And rest can never dwell, hope never comes 
That comes to all. 


At certain times the king of those regions himself is 
said to emerge from this hole, and should cattle by 
any chance fall into it they are believed to disappear 
immediately and sink lower and lower into the abyss. 
In an evil hour Sir John Popham was riding in this 
copse, when his horse, reeling over the edge of the pit, 
threw and killed him; and now, the story goes, the 
knight’s ghost haunts the sylvan shades, advancing 
towards the town at the not very alarming rate of one 
cockstride a year. 

The following rigmarole originally appeared in Mr. 
F. T. Elworthy’s West Somerset Grammar, where he gives 
it as an illustration of the dialect. Mr. A. L. Humphreys 
reproduces it in modern dress, but a suspicion of dialect 
renders a tale more racy. We will endeavour to steer 
a middle course between the two extremes of scientific 
precision and vapid commonplace. 

“T s’pose you han’t heard "bout the girt oak-tree up 
to Wellington Park wood, which, they used to say, 
Lord Popham was conjured into. Well, don’t ee zee? 
up there, you know, sir, there’s a girt deep bottom goes 
down so steep as the tower, very steep like, as one 
mit zay, same as the side going up over Wellington 
Hill. You mind poor old Tom Alway, don’t ee, sir? 
That’s the old Tom Alway’s father—this yur oak-tree, 
he helped to throw un, and when they throwed un, 


116 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


if he’ didn’t turn right top-on-tail. Yes, sure, and 
the head o’ un was right down under; and there he 
bide and they was all o’ ’em afeared for to go anenst 
un ; and they said he was so conjured nobody couldn’t 
never drag un out ; and there he remained. At last I 
went up, because they said the horses would be sure 
to be killed, with ten oxen, and I hitched ’em up to 
un, and the bullocks pulled un out, and dragged un 
into the hanging close, and I never seed nort, and they 
was all o’ ‘em a-waiting and a-looking how I should 
have been killed, and calling of me a fool for to go; 
but I never seed nort, nor yet nobody at all. 

“And you knows Wellington Park house, don’t ee, 
sir? I mind when I used to live up there, up in the 
garret ; there was a place there then like an oven like, 
and I seed some books with reading in ’em in the 
oven, and they said ’twas Lord Popham’s books, and 
they said how a man went up and sat astride ’pon 
the roof, that he [the devil] mightn’t carry the roof 
away. Yes, ’tis a terrible old house, sir, but I never 
didn’t see nobody there, no worse than myself, as one 
mit zay. Nevertheless, I’ve heard ’em zay how the ser- 
vant chap was going for to let out [z¢., into the pasture] 
the hackney, after his master had come home from 
market, and there was a man stood in the gateway, 
and he couldn’t open the gate, and when they took 
un to doing the next morning—because he hadn’t put 
out the horse, don’t ee zee, sir ?—he said, said he, how 
he couldn’t put un out, because there was a man stood 
right in the gateway, so that he couldn’t open un [the 
gate], and they always used to zay how they considered 
that there man was Lord Popham.” 


1 Je. the oak. 


JOHN POPHAM AND PETER BLUNDELL 117 


Either in the West Country or in London Popham 
became acquainted with one Master Peter Blundell, a 
native of Tiverton, and, in his later years, a person 
of some consequence. So much may be inferred from 
the evidence we possess of his wealth and generous 
spirit, and perhaps also from the fact that he terms 
the Chief Justice his “ right dear and honourable friend.” 
This Peter Blundell began life as a poor boy. He ran 
errands for the carriers that came to the town, and, 
as Prince says, “was tractable in looking after their 
horses and doing little services, as they gave him orders.” 
The same authority proceeds, “By degrees he got a 
little money, of which he was very careful, and bought 
therewith a kersey, which a carrier was so kind as 
to carry for him to London gras, and to make him 
the advantage of the return. Having done so for some 
time, he at length got enough to load a horse, and went 
with them himself, where, being found very diligent 
and industrious, he was received into good employment 
by those who managed there the kersey trade (for 
which Tiverton was then very famous), and he continued 
therein until he was rich enough to set up the calling 
for himself.” 

This account Prince received from a Mr. Newte, one 
of the rectors of Tiverton, whose father was a rector 
before him, and whose grandfather had lived in the 
neighbourhood in the days of Blundell. It is therefore 
in all probability authentic. Other particulars regarding 
him are scanty. The inscription, which is now in the 
tower of New Blundell’s, but for nearly three centuries 
kept its place over the outer gateway of the old school, 
of which he was the founder, shows, if it shows anything, 
that he died at the age of eighty-one. According to 


118 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


his own desire he was buried in the parish church of 
St. Michael Paternoster, afterwards better known as 
St. Michael Royal. This church was burnt in the Great 
Fire of London, and any monument that may have 
been erected to his memory must have perished in the 
flames. The register, however, was preserved, and 
contains the date of his burial—“the 9th day of May, 
1601.” So we think the chances are that he was born 
in 1520. It is only fair to add that the statement that 
he was a native of Tiverton is based on a tradition, but 
on a very likely tradition. - 

Peter Blundell was a bachelor, and, when in London, 
probably made his home with Mr. William Whitmore, 
a citizen and alderman of London, who was descended 
from an ancient Shropshire family. That, it seems, is 
the best explanation of the fact that on his death he 
left to Widow Whitmore, her relations and her servants, 
a sum amounting in the aggregate to nearly four 
thousand pounds. But his manner of expressing 
himself in his will, which is all in his own handwriting, 
appears to indicate either that he was not residing con- 
tinuously in London, or that he had some thought of 
returning to die among his own people. It seems quite 
certain that at the time he made his will, and probably 
up to the day of his death, he still carried on his 
business at Tiverton, between which place and London 
it had long been his custom to travel forwards and 
backwards for trading purposes. Although Blundell 
left no direct descendants he had many collateral 
relations—notably, his nephew, Robert Chilcot, or 
Comyn, who is considered to have occupied a con- 
fidential position in his firm, and who emulated his 
good deeds. 


JOHN POPHAM AND PETER BLUNDELL 1@ fe) 


Just three years before Blundell’s death Tiverton was 
the scene of a great tragedy in the shape of a terrible 
fire which reduced practically the whole town to ashes. 
Only fifteen years had elapsed when the calamity was 
repeated, and the thriving little centre was again 
deluged with flame. Had these events occurred earlier 
they must have sadly interfered with Blundell's com- 
mercial undertakings, but in 1598 his fortune was 
already made. It is not our intention to attempt a 
description of either of these fires, of which harrowing 
accounts are given in contemporary chap-books, but 
it may be worth while to glance for a moment at the 
picture they afford of the old town in the time of 
its antecedent prosperity. 

Merchants knew it well, the town of Tiverton in 
Devonshire, for it was the principal market for cloth 
in all the western parts. Pleasantly situated on the 
banks of the clear River Exe, it was garnished with 
many goodly and costly buildings—the abodes of 
wealthy merchants; and no town in that region of 
the same size could compare with it for population. 
Each Monday a market was held for cloth and other 
goods, when crowds of country-people flocked into the 
place, especially those engaged in the cloth industry. 
They had abundant reason, for they were sure of sales 
and were paid in ready money for their commodities, 
no matter how large the amount. And it is noted as 
an excellent custom that the weavers and _ tuckers 
received their coin “always before dinner,’ which was 
no small comfort to their minds and as great a benefit 
to their stomachs. In this connection it is interesting 
to observe that in his will Blundell left fifty pounds 
“to the mending of bad ways” in the neighbourhood, 


120 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


and that there may be no misunderstanding he adds, 
“J mean highways, that people come to the markets 
of Tiverton or from it with wains, ploughs (2.2. teams) 
and carriages of horses or otherwise.” This was only 
one of a bewildering list of benefactions. He did not 
forget his tuckers at Tiverton, and he remembered the 
poor prisoners in London, and the artificers of Exeter 
also came in for a share of his bounty. He bequeathed, 
too, twenty pounds a year for the apprenticing of four 
poor boys, born and bred in Tiverton, to farmers. But 
his most important charity was the foundation of the 
school which bears his name. We cannot speak of it 
otherwise than as a charity, since Blundell expressly 
stipulated that it should be “a free school and not a 
school of exaction;” and if his purpose has been 
partially defeated by the course of events and the 
superior wisdom of modern times, that is no reason 
why full credit should not be allowed him for his kind 
intention. 

The erection of this school was evidently a sort 
of day-dream of Blundell’s, and it is said that the old 
man was fond of quoting the words of William of 
Wykeham addressed to Edward III., “Though I am 
not myself a scholar, I will be the means of making 
more scholars than any scholar in England.” To 
achieve such success in the world of commerce, Blundell 
must have been a man with a very practical turn of 
mind, and we see numerous traces of this eminently 
English quality in his last will and testament. It 
is clear that he had thought out all the details of the 
school he proposed to found with the utmost minuteness, 
blended with a copious measure of enthusiasm. He 
wished his “fair school” to be built on or near the 


PETER BLUNDELL, FOUNDER OF TIVERTON SCHOOL, DIED I60I. 


From a portrait given by Thomas Whitmore to Robert Newton Incledon, 
and by him to the Trustees of the School, 


JOHN POPHAM AND PETER BLUNDELL I2I 


River Exe or Lowman—the two streams which have 
given Tiverton its name (Twy-ford-ton); and, in addition 
to the school proper, there were to be a hall, a buttery, 
and a kitchen, a “convenient” garden and woodyard, 
and a “fit” house. His provisions extended even to 
a “great fair chimney, with an oven,” which he desired 
to be set up in the kitchen. The whole of the premises 
were to be enclosed with a “strong wall,’ and there 
was to be one exit only—a “ fair strong gate.” In 
the face of the many splendid benefactions of which 
Peter Blundell’s will is the record, it would seem absurd 
to tax that good man with anything approaching mean- 
ness or parsimony, and therefore when he says that 
the usher “shall have one chamber to himself only,” 
he curbs the extravagance of ushers, who, he plainly 
thinks, ought to be satisfied with this reasonable 
accommodation. 

The execution of the project was left to a body 
of trustees, with Sir John Popham at their head; and 
the distinguished judge carried out the duties imposed 
on him with capacity and zeal till his death in 1607, 
when the complicated arrangements were still incom- 
plete. The late Sir George Chesney liked to think of 
Blundell’s as in some sense an Elizabethan school. “It 
is true,” he confessed, “that when the school was founded 
Queen Elizabeth was dead, but some of the men of 
the Elizabethan era were living. It was a great epoch 
in our history—an epoch in which Englishmen dis- 
played, in a remarkable way, the power of their race 
to engage in adventure of all kinds by land and sea, 
and developed the literature which has now become 
a great heritage of all time. Blundell’s School is in one 
sense a Shakespearian school, for it is contemporary 


I22 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


with Shakespeare. This alone gives Blundell’s School © 
a claim to esteem and regard.” 

Sir John Popham, as we have seen, was already 
a great man in the reign of Elizabeth, and, as such, 
may well have conversed with Shakespeare; and if 
Popham, why not his friend Blundell’ also? A portrait 
of Popham, which came into the possession of the 
trustees at the close of the eighteenth century, now 
hangs in the big school of New Blundell’s. It represents 
him as Lord Chief Justice of England in robes of scarlet 
and ermine and SS collar, with a ruff and cap of Eliza- 
bethan cut. Aubrey counted him a “huge, heavy, ugly 
man” ; his portrait is less uncomplimentary, but conveys 
the impression of one who could easily hold his own. 
Hard by is what a local antiquary, Mr. Arthur Fisher, 
cruelly calls the “ mythical” portrait of Peter Blundell. 
Perhaps it is mythical ; at all events, we have no certain 
knowledge of its origin. In the Blundellan for 1882 
we find the following note : 

“The portrait of the founder, now hanging in the 
schoolroom, was given by Thomas Whitmore, Esq., 
of Apley Park, Shropshire, to Robert Newton Incledon, 
Esq., and by him to the trustees of the school. Mr. 
Incledon was elected a feoffee in 1785.” 

Mr. Incledon, however, tells us that in the year 1694 
a likeness of the founder was presented to the school 
by Sir William Whitmore, a descendant of Blundell’s 
friend, but was unfortunately lost in transit. This 
statement has been supposed to put the authenticity 
of the existing portrait out of court. It is certainly 


1 Blundell may have become acquainted with the poet through 
the Whitmores. His friend Mr. William Whitmore was part- 
owner in 1609-10 of Ann Hathaway’s cottage at Shottery. 


JOHN POPHAM AND PETER BLUNDELL 123 


strange that Incledon made no mention of his treasure 
in his notes on the school first printed in 1792, and 
republished ten years later. Still he may have received 
it afterwards; and possibly, the portrait which Sir 
William designed for the school was, for some reason 
or other, never sent. Anyhow, we would rather not 
say “mythical” yet. 


CHAPTER VI 
THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF BLUNDELL’ S SCHOOL 


IR JOHN POPHAM, though he did not live 
long enough to carry out all his arrangements, 
certainly performed his task with conspicuous zeal 
and fidelity. He secured a site just where Blundell 
had desired—near the River Lowman ; and within four 
years of the merchant’s decease the school, dwelling- 
house, and offices were in being. Over the outer gate- 
way was set a brass plate, with the following somewhat 
cryptic inscriptions : 


Hospita disquirens Pallas Tritonia sedem, 
Est Blundellinae percita amore scholae. 
Ascivit sedem, placuit cupiensque foveri, 
Hospes ait, Petre sis, qui mihi fautor eris. 


This free Grammar School 

was founded at the only 

cost and charge of Mr. Peter 

Blundell, of this town, some- 

time Clothier, 
Anno Dom. 1604 
Aetatis suae 81. 


The Latin quatrain has exercised a weird fascination 
over college-bred Old Boys, and we recollect being 
present at an annual dinner, when the late Archbishop 


124 


THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF BLUNDELL’S SCHOOL 125 


announced that one of the party had offered a prize 
of a sovereign for the best English rendering. The 
writer sent in some English doggerel, which he was 
surprised to find among the three best versions, but 
the prize was not awarded, the judges, amongst whom 
was Temple, considering that none of the translations 
was of sufficient merit. In this decision one com- 
petitor, at least, cheerfully concurs; and speaking 
for ourselves, we very much doubt whether a more 
felicitous version of a singularly infelicitous original 
will ever be penned than one which saw print, for the 
first time, some sixty years ago, Viz. : 


When wand'ring Pallas sought some sweet retreat, 
In Blundell’s School at length she fix’d her seat; 
“ Peter,” she said, ‘ beneath thy roof I'll rest, 

And at thy table sit a well pleas’d guest.” 


Quite the best thing produced by this competition 
was the following irreverent parody : 


Where are you going to, my pretty maid? 

I am seeking a home for myself, she said. 

And where do you come from, my pretty maid ? 
From the Lacus Tritonis, Sir, she said. 

And pray, fair lady, where may that be? 

"Tis an academical pleasantrie, 

Meaning Girton College, Cantabrigiz. 

And what is your fortune, my pretty maid? 

My learning’s my fortune, sir, she said. 

I was first in the list of Wranglerie, 

I was senior in Classics pre-eminentlee, 

Which, I think, you'll allow was a goodly degree, 
I am Scient: et Art: et Medicinae. 

Et Legum, Doctrixque Philosophiae. 

Then all that you want is the £ s. d. 

And you just leave for men the D.D., said he. 
(I am charmed to the heart with this academee; 


a. | 
vt 
: 

i 

_ 

i 


126 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


Such a home to attain would fill me with glee, 

I long to be petted, aside said she.) 

Now prithee, fair sir, thy name tell me. 

Peter Blundell, my name, at your service, said he. 

Then be thou my hee—hum—host, Peter Blundell, said she, 
For I see youll take care of me properlee. 


We have already commented on the curious irregu- 
larity which makes the completion of the school 
apparently coincide with the date of Blundell’s death. 
It is possible that the confusion may have arisen from 
the fact that his executors did not wait for the erection 
of the school premises before initiating the benevolent 
scheme on which he had set his heart. In 1601—the very 
year that Blundell died—Popham offered the mastership 
to Dr. Hall, a famous divine, afterwards Bishop of Exeter 
and Norwich in succession. In his autobiography Hall 
gives the following account of the negotiations : 

“There was at that time a famous school erected 
at Tiverton in Devon, and endowed with a very large 
pension ; whose goodly fabric was answerable to the 
reported maintenance; the care whereof was, by the 
rich and bountiful founder, Mr. Blundell, cast princi- 
pally upon the then Lord Chief Justice Popham. That 
faithful observer, having great interest in the master 
of our house,! Dr. Chaderton, moved him earnestly to 
recommend some able, learned, and discreet governor 
to that weighty charge ; whose action should not need 
to be so much as his oversight. It pleased our master, 
out of his good opinion, to tender this condition~ unto 
me ; assuring me of no small advantages, and no great 
toil ; since it was intended the main load of the work 
should be upon other shoulders. 


! Emmanuel College, Cambridge. 


i 
q 
n 


THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF BLUNDELL’S SCHOOL 127 


“TI apprehended the motion worth entertaining. In 
that severe society our times were stinted ; neither was 
it safe or wise to refuse good offers. Dr. Chaderton 
carried me to London, and there presented me to the 
Lord Chief Justice, with much testimony of approba- 
tion. The judge seemed well apaid with the choice. I 
promised acceptance ; he the strength of his favour. 

“No sooner had I parted from the Judge than in 
the street a messenger presented me with a letter from 
the right virtuous and worthy lady, of dear and happy 
memory, the Lady Drury, of Suffolk, tendering the 
rectory of her Halstead, then newly void, and very 
earnestly desiring me to accept of it. Dr. Chaderton, 
observing in me some change of countenance, asked me 
what the matter might be. I told him the errand, and 
delivered him the letter, beseeching his advice; which 
when he had read, ‘Sir’ quoth I, ‘methinks God pulls 
me by the sleeve, and tells me it is His will I should 
rather go to the east than to the west.’ ‘Nay, he 
answered, ‘I should rather think that God would have 
you go westward, for that He hath contrived your en- 
gagement before the tender of this letter ; which there- 
fore coming too late may receive a fair and easy 
answer.’ 

“To this I besought him to pardon my dissent ; adding 
that I well knew that divinity was the end whereto 
I was destined by my parents, which I had so con- 
stantly proposed to myself that I never meant other 
than to pass through this western school to it; but 
I saw that God, who found me ready to go the farther 
way about, now called me the nearest and directest way 
to that sacred end. The good man could no further 
oppose, but only pleaded the distaste, which would 


128 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


hereupon be justly taken by the Lord Chief Justice, 
whom I undertook fully to satisfy, which I did with 
no great difficulty, commending to his lordship in my 
room my old friend and chamber-fellow, Mr. Cholmley 
who, finding an answerable acceptance, disposed himself 
to the place; so as we two, who came together to 
the University, now must leave it at once.” 

Joseph Hall, then, may be reckoned the first head- — 
master of Blundell’s School, and so figures in the list. 
His friend and nominee Mr. Cholmley, in spite of his 
good disposition, never succeeded to that position, and 
the first headmaster who actually discharged the duties 
was a Mr. Samuel Butler, who came, it is thought, from 
Barnstaple and brought his scholars with him. Mr. 
Butler held office for the long term of thirty-seven 
years—a period of service which, up to the present, no 
subsequent headmaster has exceeded. 

Popham had studied at Balliol College, Oxford, and 
he employed a portion of the two thousand pounds 
which Blundell had bequeathed for “the increase of good 
and godly ministers of the Gospel” in establishing 
scholarships at his old college, one of which was to 
be held more than two centuries later by Frederick 
Temple. Not a year had elapsed after Blundell’s death 
before Popham nominated the scholars—two at Balliol 
College, Oxford, two at Emmanuel, and two at Sidney 
Sussex College, Cambridge. These arrangements were 
afterwards amended. Sums were invested for the support 
of a fellow and scholar at Balliol, and two fellows 
and two scholars at Sidney Sussex; and still later, 
another fellowship and another scholarship were estab- 
lished at the former college. In Temple’s case, as 
in that of many other men, a Blundell’s scholarship 


THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF BLUNDELL’S SCHOOL 129 


at Balliol proved a stepping-stone to a Blundell’s 
fellowship. The late Archbishop, referring in the 
Exeter Guildhall to his early days in Devonshire, once 
remarked: “I was at a school at no great distance 
from you, a school which was then certainly one of 
the best in the West-country, and which [ think still 
holds the same place. From thence I received what 
was really the chief means of my attendance at Oxford, 
for I took with me the Balliol scholarship, and so long 
as I was there I received the benefit of this Devon 
foundation. I was a Blundell scholar, and I was a 
Blundell fellow. I remained a Blundell fellow until 
an offer was made to me to enter the service of the 
Crown.” The final transformation took place some 
years after the late Archbishop had given up residence 
at Oxford, when the two fellowships and the two 
scholarships were melted down into five scholarships, 
as at present. The last two Blundell’s fellows were 
the Rev. W. C. Salter and the Rev. D. M. Owen, 
the latter of whom, happily still living, must feel 
uncommonly like a dodo. The Sidney Sussex fellow- 
ships are also extinct, but although the top rungs of 
the educational ladder have been, locally speaking, 
sawn off, the penultimate steps, as represented by the 
close scholarships, have been spared for the younger 
generations of Blundell’s foster-sons. 

We do not propose to attempt a picture of the 
school as it probably appeared in 1604, since it would 
be more grateful to postpone a description of the 
buildings to a later page in their history, when they 
had had time to grow mellow and venerable and gain 
something of that ineffable charm, not untinged with 
pathos, which invests even material things that have 

9 


130 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


been steeped in human companionship and love. Here 
we will be content with recording a few details, 
which it will be convenient to mention without delay. 
The roof of the main building, which rises to a height 
of thirty-six feet (that of the walls being eighteen), 
is said to have been copied from the chapel of Frithel- 
stock Abbey ; and there is a tradition that much of 
the timber employed in the building consisted of 
Spanish oak and chestnut, from the wreck of the 
Armada. Although this class of evidence cannot be 
received as entirely authentic, there is at least a chance 
of its being true. The pulpit of St. James’s Church 
at Exeter is also said to be spoil of the Armada; and 
Torquay can still show the Spanish barn at Torre 
Abbey, where a large number of prisoners were 
confined. Possibly some of those prisoners belonged 
to the St Peter, of five hundred tons, one of the two 
hospital ships appointed for the Spanish navy, which 
came ashore in Hope Bay, near Salcombe. The crew 
was thoroughly dispirited, and before the authorities 
could take measures for securing the prize in the 
Queen’s name, she was set upon and plundered by 
the country-people. After a time news of the wreck 
reached George Cary, of Cockington, one of the deputy- 
lieutenants of the county, at Plymouth, and he im- 
mediately rode across country to Hope, and arranged 
for the disposal of the crew and the recovery of what 
remained of the cargo. He found the hulk lying full 
of water on a rock, when she soon fell to pieces ; 
and perhaps some of her timbers may have been utilised 
for the interior fittings of Blundell’s School. 

Whatever their origin, the ceilings endured to the 
end, but the floors and wainscot, having become much 


THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF BLUNDELL’S SCHOOL 131 


decayed, were renewed in 1773. The great gate, which 
was apparently of wood, had been removed for the 
same reason in 1697, and iron gates substituted. It was 
at this time also that the porter’s lodge was erected, 
Blundell not having included in his plans either lodge 
or porter. 

The school was still young when the Great Civil 
War broke out. Tiverton Castle was held for the 
King, and in October 1645 Fairfax with his troopers 
clattered down the green and proceeded to occupy 
the school, pending the siege which Massey had already 
begun. There, on the same Friday on which he arrived, 
Fairfax held a council of war. Mr. Arthur Fisher, one 
of the best living authorities on Blundell lore and a 
most devoted and intelligent Old Boy, says the two 
generals and seven or eight colonels “sat heavily in 
the school-house.” The phrase, a reminiscence of 
Blackmore, was probably seductive, for we can discern 
no lack of energy in the proceedings of the Parliament 
generals, who stormed and captured the Castle on the 
ensuing Sunday, doubtless to the great “amazement” 
of their hosts, whose sympathies would have been all 
the other way. The dramatic episode has inspired 
a very pretty ballad, entitled “A Page of Blundell’s 
History.” 


The clang and crash of hoof and mail 
Awoke the burghers brave ; 

The Ironsides rode up the glen 
By Lowman’s silent wave. 


Right straight to Blundell’s dome they sped 
And thunder’d at the gate: 

Trembling, the porter draws the bolt, 
Nor durst, so summon’d, wait. 


132 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


With clank and tramp the troopers wake 
Strange echoes round the Green, 

Of boyish battles, mimic wars, 
Lately the joyous scene. 


Foremost the stern commander rides, 
His charger iron-grey, 

Past Ironing Box the Ironside, 
That field of many a fray. 


They enter now the lofty walls, 
Where some prepare a meal; 

Some tie their horses to the screens; 
Some prove the glitt’ring steel. 


Again the Armada’s timbers hear 
Fierce warfare’s dread alarms. 

Vengeance has come! The Briton now 
’Gainst Briton turns his arms. 


Soon forth there sped two horsemen brave, 
To view the place of might ; 

On Exe’s bank they rein’d their steeds, 
And marvell’d at the sight. 


The Castle old, out of the mist 
Of Exe’s winding flood, 

All ruddied o’er (the day’s bright orb 
Appearing) nobly stood, 


Majestic were the rugged elms ; 
Fair was the greenwood bower ; 

St. Peter’s sacred fane thereby 
Raised high its holy tower. 


Silent was all the air around ; 
As diamonds shone the dew; 
Spangled with stars the verdant turf 
Flow'rets of many a hue. 


Well might those horsemen halt and gaze 
Upon a sight so fair, 

For loyal hearts and royal blood 
Had tabernacled there. 


THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF BLUNDELL’S SCHOOL 133 


Back straight to Blundell’s School the twain, 
Spell-bound in solemn thought, 

Ride silently, and there arrived, 
The vision they report. 


Through all the vicissitudes of that troublous time 
the work of the school appears to have been carried 
on practically without interruption. It is clear from 
entries in the great book of accounts that the masters 
drew their salaries regularly, and the only suspicious 
circumstance in connection with these items is the extra- 
ordinary amount spent in repairs, which, it has been 
thought, could hardly have been necessitated by ordinary 
wear and tear on account of the recent erection of the 
buildings. In 1647 over forty-five pounds was expended 
in this way. Nearly twenty thousand “helling stones” 
or slates, more than fifty hogsheads of lime, and 
labour for two hundred and fifty-seven days had to 
be paid for. Between 1648 and 1653 over a hundred 
and thirty-seven pounds—a large sum for those days— 
was required for “ mending schoolhouse.” The stone is 
believed to have been drawn from Collipriest Quarry. 

With reference to the alternate visitations of Puritan 
and Cavalier, Master Culpepper tells us that Essex’s 
horses, “being drawn up in a body, many of them 
lost their shoes upon White Down, in Devonshire, 
near Tiverton, because moonwort” grows there, and 
“moonwort will loosen shoes from those horses’ feet 
that go on the places where it groweth.” We wonder 
whether our authority was aware, in assigning this 
explanation, that the spot (which is about two miles 
from Tiverton, on the road to Cullompton) is bewitched. 
Of a surety it is. Within the memory of persons still 
living, or lately deceased, men and women were afraid 


134 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


to pass the desolate scene after nightfall; and horses, 
tis said, on approaching the fatal cross-roads, would 
instinctively start and plunge. 

How came White Down to be haunted? Possibly 
for the following reason. In 1626, as Exeter was 
suffering from the plague, the assizes were held at 
Blundell’s School, when, according to a certain Farmer 
Roberts, the judge’s name was Dinham, and one Master 
Fry was High Sheriff of Devon. During the proceed- 
ings a Dutchman was found guilty of robbery, and a 
Chevithorne man, named Comins, of sheep-stealing. 
Sentence of death was passed on them, and they were 
hanged at White Down, or “ Whiddon,” as the country- 
talk hath it. We may be mistaken, but we trace a 
connection between these executions, the haunted con- 
dition of the spot, and the loss of the horse-shoes. The 
moonwort theory we reject entirely, holding it no better, 
and, in this context, considerably worse, than moonshine. 
As will be seen later, White Down is a place pos- 
sessing some slight association with Archbishop Temple. 

We do not propose to follow the history of the school 
step by step. This could only be done by way of the 
masters, most of whom appear to have been good, but 
dull, men ; and even Mr. Rayner, one of the best, owes 
what celebrity he enjoys far less to his own undoubted 
talents than to the colossal caprice of Bampfylde Moore 
Carew. Writers, artists, actors, and others of the class 
oft inappositely dubbed “ Bohemian,’ make obeisance 
before him ; bow down before Carew, for what ye are 
content to do half-heartedly, with many a regretful 
sigh for the flesh-pots of Egypt—or not at all—this 
courageous son of Blundell did literally, com amore, and 
throughout a lifetime. 


THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF BLUNDELL’S SCHOOL 135 


Bampfylde Moore Carew was the son of the Rev. 
Theodore Carew, Rector of Bickleigh, near Tiverton, 
and was born in July 1703. When twelve years old 
he was sent to the great school in the neighbouring 
town, and there made the acquaintance of many lads 
as well born and bred as himself. He is said to have 
been an apt scholar, and he certainly retained what 
he learnt, for when in the course of his wild career he 
elected to pose as a parson, he could patter enough 
Latin and Greek to obtain—we use the phrase in a 
social, not the legal, sense—benefit of clergy. Such, 
however, were not the arts on which Carew most prided 
himself. He had a style of cheering the hounds of 
which he alone knew the secret ; and he was the patentee 
of another accomplishment, not quite dissimilar—that 
of fascinating dogs. He was a sort of Orpheus, and 
any of the canine species, of whatsoever breed or dis- 
position it might be, could not choose but follow him. 
Whether he vexed the soul of any local master of 
hounds—and is there anything a master of hounds 
regrets more keenly than the loss of “ Spanker”?—does 
not appear, but by hook or by crook a fine subscription 
pack was compiled by the boys at Blundell’s School, 
the officials being Bampfylde Moore Carew, John 
Martin, Thomas Colman, and John Escott, all youths 
of good family, and therefore, of course, privileged to 
do what was right in their own eyes. 

One day a farmer called on the young sportsmen 
with the welcome intelligence that in one of his fields 
there was a deer with a collar round his neck. The 
farmer, too, was a sportsman, and served the scholars 
very obligingly as “whipper-in;” otherwise it might 
have occurred to him that harvest was approaching, and 


136 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


a chase just then boded no good to the standing corn. 
Perhaps it did occur to him; the consideration, at all 
events, met with scant favour from the boys, who 
hunted and killed their deer, and on examining the 
inscription on the collar, found it to be the property 
of Colonel Nutcombe, of Clayhanger. (By the way 
there is, or was, at Nutcombe Barton a fine old mantle- 
piece adorned with hunting scenes—probably not 
connected with this event.) 

The run across a highly cultivated country bristling 
with crops occasioned something like a hue and cry; 
and Mr. Rayner found all his time occupied with 
receiving deputations of farmers and landowners who 
arrived in the last stage of perspiration and fury. An 
inquiry was of course inevitable, and the ringleaders, 
fearing the school equivalent of capital punishment, 
decided to “elope,” and the next day entered Brick 
House, an inn about a mile on the old road to Bampton. 
Here they fell in with a mixed company of seventeen 
or eighteen gipsies, feasting. Ducks and fowls, flowing 
cups of October, songs and country dances captivated 
the truants, who begged to be admitted into the 
fraternity. . At first the gipsies, not believing them 
to be in earnest, demurred, and the boys were advised, 
before making their final choice, to “sleep over” it. 
When morning came, the prospect still seemed desirable, 
and accordingly the good-natured gipsies consented 
to adopt them. Oaths were administered, the proper 
ceremonies gone through, and from that hour Bampfylde 
Moore Carew was gipsy confest—so much a gipsy that 
ultimately he was chosen king. 

This story must have been perfectly familiar to 
Temple, who was at school with the late Mr. Thomas 


"IOOHOS AIO STIHGNOTH JO MUA LNOW 


‘ 


ywaas An &q ydvadoyst] B Mod 


* 


THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF BLUNDELL’S SCHOOL 137 


Carew, M.F.H., and Rev. Robert Baker Carew, for so 
many years rector of Bickleigh. These gentlemen were 
not, as has been sometimes believed, lineal descendants 
of the gipsy. They were rather collateral relations many 
times removed. Neither is it true, as was idly reported, 
that the family would gladly have destroyed all trace 
of their famous kinsman, and even took steps to have 
burnt any copies of his Life found circulating in the 
town, and especially in the school. On the contrary, 
the Rev. R. B. Carew was disposed to treat the matter 
humorously and declined to see in the purloining of 
stray puppies any serious blot on the family escutcheon. 

This excellent clergyman, who shared Temple’s 
birthday, once told me of an interesting coincidence. 
Mr. J. S. Cotton, late editor of the Academy, had written 
to me, as a former contributor, invoking my help for 
an article on Colonel Stedman which he was inditing 
for the Dictionary of National Biography. Stedman 
was supposed to have been buried at Bickleigh; and 
obedient to Mr. Cotton’s wishes, I posted down to the 
village to inspect the register, which was deposited at, 
the rectory. Mr. Carew was then almost totally bind, 
but the butler and myself succeeded in unearthing the 
desired entry, viz. : 


1797,—John Gabriel Stedman, Tiverton, Aged 52. March 
7th. 


This settled, Mr. Carew, always the essence of kindness, 
took me out into the adjoining churchyard, showed 
me where Stedman was buried, and told me what he 
knew of that extraordinary person, of whom I had 
previously never heard or read. Stedman, he said, 
had distinguished himself in two ways—by writing a 


138 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


work on Surinam, and marrying a half-caste called 
Joanna. Before he died he expressed a wish to be 
interred, as our kings and queens were formerly, at 
midnight and by torchlight ; and, of all the odd things, 
he wanted to lie at Bickleigh, side by side with 
Bampfylde Moore Carew, for whom, as a kindred spirit, 
he probably felt particular esteem and admiration. 
Now Carew is buried in the churchyard under the 
window of the south aisle, which is next the chancel, 
while Stedman lies on the opposite side of the church, 
immediately before the vestry door. Why his body 
was not laid to rest in the spot he had chosen is not 
known for certain. Perhaps he had been anticipated 
by some humble parishioner, whose bones could not 
be disturbed ; perhaps the rector was unwilling to be 
a party to a kind of post-mortem comedy. But the 
Bohemian touch was not wanting. The rector, it seems, 
was commonly known in the village as “ Maister,” and 
an old thatcher who lived in a cottage opposite the 
south gate of the churchyard, and who had been 
present on the occasion, informed Mr. Carew that 
“Maister” and his curate, Mr. Walker, having to sit 
up on a cold night to perform the ceremony, comforted 
themselves in the approved fashion. The cordial took 
effect on “ Maister,” and he had not proceeded far 
when, turning to Mr. Walker, he said hastily, “ Here! 
you bury him.” We now come to the coincidence. 
Forty years before the mother of the old thatcher had 
attended the funeral of Bampfylde Moore Carew, who, 
after twice visiting America, returned to his native 
village, where he died June 28th, 1758. 

Singularly enough, the gipsies, or “ polliards” as they 
were sometimes called, were under the delusion that 


THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF BLUNDELL’S SCHOOL 139 


Carew was buried, not at Bickleigh, but several miles 
farther down the Exe, at Rew, where at certain seasons 
they surrounded his imaginary grave, and, having 
strown flowers on it, sang the “ Polliards’ Ode,” viz. : 


FIRST VOICE 


Free from sorrow, free from care, 

Free as water, fire, and air, 

We, the motley sons of chance, 

Round this hallow’d grave advance. 
CHORUS 


Thus by love and duty led, 
[All bowing. 
We kiss the turf on Carew’s head. 


SECOND VOICE 


King of freemen, thou shalt rise, 

And find a crown in yonder skies; 

While kings who governed slaves below 

Shall envy thee, and sink to woe. 
CHORUS 


Thus, thus by love and duty led, 
[All bowing. 


We kiss the turf on Carew’s head. 
GRAND CHORUS 


Farewell, adieu, our King Carew ; 

And when the cuckoo sings again, 

On evry hill and ev'ry plain, 

Welll seek the grave that holds our King, 
And dress it with the sweets of spring. 


A noticeable feature in this ode is the vacillation shown 
between the ancient and modern modes of pronouncing 
the name Carew. On the first two occasions the 
rhythm requires that it should be pronounced “ Carey,” 
@ la General Sir R. Pole-Carew and the other members 


a 


I40 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


of the Cornish branch of this great West-country 
family. 

A contemporary of Bampfylde Moore Carew, Thomas 
Hayter, distinguished himself in a different way. On 
leaving the school in 1720, he was granted by the 
trustees a “temporary exhibition,” and with this entered 
Exeter College, Oxford. In 1749 he was appointed 
Bishop of Norwich, and soon afterwards preceptor to 
the young princes who were to become known as 
George III. and the Duke of York. A memorandum 
in the Bishop’s handwriting, copied by Colonel Harding, 
shows the Old Blundellian at work. 

“A plan of instruction for their Royal Highnesses 
during the ensuing winter, laid before his Majesty and 
approved by him, September 25th, 1751. 

“Tt is proposed that their Royal Highnesses do rise 
at seven o'clock, and translate such parts of Cesar’s 
Commentaries as they had before read till half-past 
eight, at which hour breakfast, allowing until nine as 
a sufficient length of time for that purpose; at which 
time will be lectures in History and Geography. 

“As soon as their Royal Highnesses shall have 
acquired the necessary knowledge, they will be taught 
Geometry. 

“At ten the translations from Czsar are to be 
reviewed and corrected, and new parts of that author 
read by their Royal Highnesses and explained to 
them. 

“ At eleven writing, arithmetic, and dancing three 
times a week, and the French master the other three 
days. 

“Their Royal Highnesses will be also instructed in 
the principles of Fortification, 


THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF BLUNDELL’S SCHOOL I4I 


“From twelve o'clock riding and other exercises, 
etc. until dinner, which is proposed to be at three 
o'clock. 

“ After dinner the princes usually visit her Royal 
Highness the Princess [z.e. their mother] at Leicester 
House ; where Mr. Younge attends them three days 
in the week to improve them in the German language 
and History ; and Mr. Desnoyer [presumably the French 
master] the remaining three days. 

“Tt is proposed that the hours from seven to nine 
in the evening be spent in reading some useful and 
entertaining books such as Addison’s works, and 
particularly his political papers published in the year 
1715; and that in general a view be had to give 
their Royal Highnesses a true notion of the nature 
of the constitution of this country, its interests, and the 
present state of its connection with foreign powers. 

“Every Sunday morning after breakfast the Bishop 
of Norwich reads to their Royal Highnesses a practical 
explanation of the principles of the Christian religion, 
and recapitulates the substance of the preceding 
lectures ; and the utmost attention has been, and will 
be, had to explain and inculcate to their Royal High- 
nesses the great duties of Religion and Morality, and 
particularly those that more immediately concern their 
Royal Highnesses, from their high rank and station.” 

In 1761 Hayter was translated to the see of London, 
and the following year he died, aged fifty-nine. Dr. 
Temple was therefore not the first member of the 
school to occupy Fulham Palace. 

One of the ablest of the masters was Samuel Wesley, 
the eldest brother of the more famous John and 
Charles Wesley, who received the appointment in 


142 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


1734, and held it for nine years. To Wesley, who was 
in several senses an ambitious man, residence at 
Tiverton was far from pleasing. He sighed for the 
intellectual dissipations of the metropolis, and, like 
Herrick, could not be content in “dull Devonshire.” 
In a letter to his brother Charles written from Blundell’s 
School, 29th September, 1736, he describes his case 
thus: “I am in a desert as well as you, having no 
conversable creature but my wife till my mother came 
last week.” He evidently imported some of this 
sourness into his school duties, and when Henry 
Kiddell, in a poem entitled “Tiverton,” which was 
published in 1757, hit off the idiosyncrasies of various 
masters, he refused to say a good word for him: 


Wesley alone (curst with excessive pride)— 
Wesley alone shall want me for a guide; 

To him I leave dry puns in scales to poise, 
And wield the birch, the terror of all boys. 


The truth is, Wesley belonged to the genus zrritabile 
vatum a fact which ought to have made Kiddell at 
least more considerate to his failings. Another circum- 
stance which bespeaks our regard is that he devoted 
his talents to celebrating in elegant couplets the virtues 
of Peter Blundell : 


Exempt from sordid and ambitious views, 

Blest with the art to gain, and heart to use; 
Not satisfied with life’s poor span alone, 
Blundell through ages sends his blessing down. 
Since worth to raise, and learning to support, 

A patriarch’s lifetime had appeared too short 
While letters gain esteem in Wisdom’s eyes, 
Till Justice is extinct and Mercy dies, 

His alms perpetual, not by time confined, 

Last with the world, and end but with mankind. 


THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF BLUNDELL’S SCHOOL 143 


The following is offered as a specimen of Wesley’s 
satirical skill : 


Strange is the power of snuff, whose pungent grains 
Can make fops speak, and furnish beaux with brains; 
Nor care of cleanliness, nor love of dress, 

Can save their clothes from brick-dust nastiness. 
Some think the part too small of modish sand 
Which at a niggard pinch they can command; 

Nor can their fingers for that task suffice, 

Their nose too greedy, not their hands too nice; 

To such a height with these is fashion grown, 

They feed their very nostrils with a spoon. 

One, and but one, degree is waiting yet 

To make our senseless luxury complete ; 

Some choice regale, useless as snuff, and dear, 

To feed the mazy windings of the ear. 


CHAPTER -Val 
HEROES BEFORE AGAMEMNON 


EMPLE entered Blundell’s during the head- 
mastership of Dr. Dicken, but there is reason 
to think that the school acquired the characteristics 
which then marked it, and that peculiar reputation to 
which we now look back with mingled surprise and 
amusement, under Dicken’s immediate predecessors, 
the Rev. Richard Keats and Dr. Richards. It was 
they who formed the school that Temple knew. The 
late Archbishop, as a young man, must have been 
perfectly acquainted with the more recent features of the 
school’s history, for, as we shall see, he made a point 
of attending the annual school-feast, at which Old Boys 
were wont to fight their battles o'er again, and the 
writer himself has been present at luncheons, not only 
with Temple but with some of Dr. Richards’ pupils, 
who regaled their auditors with graphic descriptions 
of that lively time. In Temple’s early manhood, many 
of those who took part in these celebrations belonged 
to the age of Keats—to the juniors a sort of heroic age, 
wherein certain traditions were first planted. 

Mr. Keats was appointed upper master in 1775, and 
resigned in 1797. Under him “ lines ” were commenced, 
and amongst other innovations was an exercise for 

144 


HEROES BEFORE AGAMEMNON 145 


the monitors, who were required to produce, almost 
extempore, an epigram on a given subject. This was 
not announced until half-past eight, and the epigram 
had to be ready by nine. A similar plan was in vogue 
at Winchester, where Keats had been educated ; and 
a curious anecdote has been handed down concerning 
a Wintonian who had been an object of ridicule in 
the college on account of his odd ways and the fact 
of his wearing a wig. On the master proposing the 
thesis “ Decus et tutamen,’ this boy immortalised himself 
almost immediately by stepping out, placing his wig 
on his hand, and saying— 


Haec coma quam cernis varios mihi suppetit usus, 


Then turning the wig inside out so as to form a night- 
cap, he continued— 


Tutamen capiti nocte, 
and, placing it on his head, concluded— 
dieque decus. 


Interesting notices concerning Keats have been 
bequeathed to us by old pupils, themselves long since 
dead and gone. “There was a peculiarity in his 
manner,” says one, “which, successful as it eminently 
was with him, could scarcely be recommended as a 
pattern to other masters. It required the singular 
combination of gravity with drollery (which characterised 
him) to command the most profound respect. At 
the same time he carried on a constant playfulness of 
manner, so much so that a more uniformly severe 
teacher may with difficulty comprehend how each boy 
in the school stood in awe of a master who had a 
sobriquet for almost every one of them, and who 

bao) 


146 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


watched the opportunity with the instrument of cor- 
rection (which he carried over his shoulders, composed 
of a piece of knotted whip-cord at the end of a stick, 
nick-named by him ‘ Discipline’) to strike the toes 
of any boy who rested them against the front board 
under the desk, affecting to be about to chastise some 
nearer delinquent, so as to throw off his guard the 
really contemplated victim.” 

Here are some extracts from a letter received by 
a Tiverton gentleman in 1858 from one of Keats’ 
disciples, which throw light on the constitution of affairs 
towards the close of his headmastership : 

“TI am sorry to be informed of the degradation of 
Tiverton School. I was sent there when about nine, 
but was not under Mr. Ley, having been so far 
instructed by my father as to be placed in the Upper 
School. I was then sent to Winchester, but, failing 
in interest to be put in the college, was sent to Mr. 
Richards, brother, I believe, to him of Tiverton, and 
at that time usher of Hyde Abbey. I hated this school 
so much that, Mr. Keats being in Winchester, I entreated 
him to take me back, which he did. I was head boy 
at Tiverton before I was fifteen. The manners at 
Tiverton and Hyde Abbey were so different! At 
Tiverton the pugilistic art and amusement and wrestling 
were patronised. Orchard excursions ; a fowl or duck 
now and then unexpectedly killed; baiting a badger 
or two; getting into the gates, and keeping a few 
donkeys for equestrian exercises on Saturday and 
Sunday till turned out towards Cullompton Common 
on Monday morning, were beneath Mr. Keats’ notice. 
At Hyde didicisse fideliter artes was construed 
differently ; esollit mores signified to become effeminate ; 


HEROES BEFORE AGAMEMNON 147 


mec sinit esse feros, to become cowards and mean. I 
never was flogged at Tiverton, but Tiverton manners 
and those of Hyde Abbey differing so greatly procured 
me that attention daily, which, not being suitable to 
my feelings, I would not stay....The Tiverton 
factory was built in my young days by my friend 
Dennys’ father and a Mr. Lardner as a woollen manu- 
factory, and a great temporary misfortune it was to 
Tiverton. It ruined at once all the homely but 
comfortable serge-makers, and all their combers, 
carders, and spinners. I am told, but cannot vouch 
for it, that in about a year upwards of two hundred 
persons had to receive pay from the parish who, until 
then, had never expected such a misery, to say nothing 
of the alteration that abject poverty caused in their 
motals.,. ...” 

Such then was the end of the system by which 
Peter Blundell and many another old Tiverton merchant 
made their fortunes. 

Returning to Keats, his principal achievement at 
the school was the institution of the composition and 
speaking medals, these prizes in after years ranking 
about as high in the estimation of Blundellians as the 
Hertford and Ireland at Oxford. The old Wintonian 
no sooner found himself established at Tiverton than 
he approached the trustees with this proposal, which, 
says Mr. Incledon, “met with a cheerful reception.” 
That was in 1776. For the moment nothing was done 
towards realising the project, but in the following year 
the trustees subscribed enough for a die and some 
silver and copper medals. The. die cost nearly fifty 
pounds, the price of a silver medal was about eight 
shillings, and that of a copper medal four shillings. 


148 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


The design of the medal, executed by a Mr. Pingo, 
was due to the “politeness” of Coplestone Warne 
Bampfylde, Esq., one of the trustees. The obverse 
represented Minerva crowning a youth with a laurel 
wreath, and bore the inscription DETUR DIGNIORI; 
the reverse showed the school, beneath which was, 
PETRUS BLUNDELLUS, FUND. DON. MDCIV. ; and above 
IN PATRIAM POPULUMQUE FLUXIT. The Marquis of 
Rockingham and two or three other gentlemen having 
requested that a medal might be struck off at their 
expense, permission was granted, but subsequent applica- 
tions were refused. ‘Thus the medals were confined to 
the noble marquis, leader of the Whig party and for a 
short time Prime Minister, and the fortunate gentlemen 
who were early ; the trustees, who had them in both 
silver and copper; the boys, who received them as 
prizes ; and the headmaster, Mr. Keats, who was pre- 
sented by the trustees with a silver medal in recognition 
of his services. In 1833, the old die being quite worn 
out, a new one was provided, when the representation 
of the school on the reverse was taken from a drawing 
by Mrs. Boulton, wife of the then lower master. 

What time the scheme was still in its infancy, the 
boys were induced to send in their exercises on the 
promise of silver medals for the successful competitors. 
Accordingly in 1777 the long series of literary bouts 
was initiated, and a prize awarded John Matthew for 
a Latin oration on the founder of the school, while 
William Wrey was proclaimed the best speaker. Look- 
ing a little farther down the list, we find that in 1780 
the speaking medal was won by A. Elijah Impey. In 
the following year the same boy won the medals for 
speaking and verse composition, and in 1782 the medal 


HEROES BEFORE AGAMEMNON 149 


for prose composition. The name “Impey” will pro- 
bably give pause to the student of eighteenth-century 
politics. Yes, he was the son of the Elijah Impey so 
well known as the friend of Warren Hastings. 

Sir Elijah, the father, was of course a Justice of the 
High Court in India, and in a letter addressed to “ Arch” 
now in the British Museum, he remarks, “ Your uncle 
has shown me the letter you wrote him from Tiverton, 
by which you inform him of your having gained a 
medal at your school. . . . Though I was disappointed 
at your not staying at Westminster, you have so far 
amply made up for it.” From this it would seem that 
the boy had chosen the school contrary to his father’s 
wishes. In a letter to his brother Michael, the judge 
observes, “I much approve of Arch’s going to Oxford 
from Tiverton school. I hope his master was liberal 
in the pecuniary recompense which he offered him, and 
that when he goes to College, he will not be stinted.” 
Alas! Impey’s name does not appear in the list of 
- “temporary exhibitions” or “occasional gratuities,” 
which, as we have seen in the case of Hayter, it was 
the practice to confer on boys at the school, though 
something of the kind wasclearly earned. However,some 
years ago a portrait of the medallist, framed in Blundell 
oak, was presented to the school by Mr. Arthur Fisher, 
who has thus atoned for the parsimony of Mr. Keats. 

Mr. Keats’ son, Richard Goodwin, who was educated 
at the school, became a distinguished naval officer, and 
at the time of his death was a G.C.B. and Governor 
of Greenwich Hospital. He was contantly employed 
on active service, but one of the battles in which 
he took part deserves particular mention, as the Old 
Blundellian was quite the hero of the occasion. We 


150 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


refer to the attack on the French squadron off St. 
Domingo, on February 6th, 1804. Previous to this action 
Captain Keats suspended from the mizen-stay a portrait 
of Lord Nelson, so bringing home to the hearts of all 
present the memorable words of their late great and 
gallant commander, “England expects every man to 
do his duty.” The officers on the quarter-deck took 
off their hats, and the band played “God save the 
King,” and “Nelson and the Nile.” In the midst of 
their enthusiasm the fleet advanced in close succession 
and perfect order, the Superb, a seventy-four commanded 
by Captain Keats, leading. The enemy now made an 
effort to escape by cutting their cables. The squadron, 
however, succeeded in destroying two ships, one carrying 
a hundred and twenty guns, and the other seventy-four ; 
and in less than two hours three others were captured, 
of which one was an eighty-gun ship, and the two others 
seventy-fours. For this gallant action Keats received 
the thanks of Parliament, and a handsome present from 
the Patriotic Fund. The commander, Admiral Duck- 
worth, in his despatches, thus commented on the affair: 
“T cannot be silent, without injustice, to (szc) the firm 
and manly support for which I am indebted to Captain 
Keats, and the effect that the system and good order 
in which I found the Swgevd must ever produce; and 
the pre-eminence of British seamen could never be 
more highly conspicuous than in this contest.” 

On Mr. Keats’ resignation in 1797 he was succeeded 
by the Rev. William Richards, LL.D., of New College, 
Oxford, and flagellatory memory. Many are the stories 
which have been told in our hearing of this stern 
pedagogue. With every school anniversary he seemed 
to grow grimmer, his birchings increased in both number 


HEROES BEFORE AGAMEMNON I51 


and violence, and his eyes glared with greater malignity. 
Artemus Ward observes that it is the privilege of 
schoolmasters to lick creation, and it seemed to us 
that Dr. Richards not merely licked his pupils, but in 
doing so beat all rivals out of the field, Dr. Busby not 
excepted. Conceive our amazement, therefore, on turn- 
ing to Colonel Harding’s “short and simple annals” 
of the masters, to read that this monster of Old Boys’ 
Day, this chastiser with scorpions, held the post of 
headmaster “with credit to himself and advantage to 
his numerous pupils.” In our zeal for accuracy we 
were tempted to emend on the margin “with advantage 
to himself and credit to his numerous pupils,” which 
would have better harmonised with tradition, and, to 
some extent, with fact. Dr. Richards was certainly 
a very successful headmaster. According to a state- 
ment made in public by the late Sir John Duntze, he 
amassed sixty thousand pounds out of the school, which 
was never more prosperous than under his sway. There 
were over a hundred boys within the gates, and the 
total number at one time exceeded two hundred. When 
he retired, after a reign of twenty-six years, he was 
presented with a handsome piece of plate purchased 
by grateful old pupils, and bearing the modest and 
elegant inscription : 


VIRO EGREGIO ET DOCTISSIMO 
GULIELMO P. RICHARDS, LL.D., 

QUI VIGINTI SEX ANNOS SCHOLAE TIVERTONIENSIS 
PRAEFUIT, DISCIPULI EJUS TANTORUM IN SE BENE: 
FICIORUM HAUD IMMEMORES HOC MUNUSCULUM SUMMA 
CUM REVERENTIA 
TRIBUERUNT, 


152 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


This parting gift, whether deserved or not, assuredly . 
did credit to the donors. We are far from saying 
that Dr. Richards did not deserve it, and are much 
averse from affixing any unjust stigma to the memory 
of one who may have had his faults, but who, we are 
confident, had his virtues also. Probably there were 
two Dr. Richards ; or, in other words, he was regarded 
in different lights by different classes of boys—a “ terror 
to evil-doers” and a “praise to them that did well.” 
The only other plea that we can urge in extenuation 
is that his temper did not improve with age—“ Crabbed 
age and youth never did agree”; or, vice versa, it may 
have been, as is the case with some, that as his locks 
whitened his disposition became more mellow, more 
benevolent, more saintly. But we must confess that 
we cannot dismiss as false the accumulated evidence 
convicting him of harshness and_ neglect. 

It is remembered against him that he not unfrequently 
began the day’s work by flogging half a dozen boys, 
some of whom admired him for it. An old school- 
fellow of Jack Russell, writing on the subject of Old 
Boys’ Day, remarked “I wish the school all success, 
as all Old Blundellians do; but you never had such 
a master since old Richards, and you never can have 

1 It may perhaps interest the reader to learn how far a school- 
master might go in the direction of severity. In Burns’ /ustice 
of the Peace, published in the very year that Richards became 
headmaster of Blundell’s, we meet with the following paragraph: 
“Where a schoolmaster, in correcting his scholar, happens to 
occasion his death if in such correction he is so barbarous as to 
exceed all bounds of moderation, he is at least guilty of man- 
slaughter; and if he make use of an instrument improper for 
correction, and apparently endangering the scholar’s life, as an 


iron bar, a sword, or kick him to the ground, and then stamp on 
his belly, and kill him, he is guilty of murder.—1 Haw. 73, 74.” 


HEROES BEFORE AGAMEMNON 153 


such another!” Precisely. The master’s indifference 
to the comfort of his pupils was appalling. Breakfast 
consisted of a roll with a small quantity of milk ; “tea” 
was} breakfast over again, and supper there was none. 
At dinner the boys had only one carver—an old 
woman who used her fingers and knuckles as freely as 
her carving knife. The meat, too, was sometimes 
brought on to the table portentously “high.” Morning 
ablutions were performed at a pump, and the hardihood 
of the boys was increased still further by the variations 
of temperature to which they had to submit. During 
the winter gales it was a by no means rare event for 


- sleet to find its way through the unceiled roof and 


drip on the boys’ copy-books, while at other times 
all writing had to be suspended because the ink in the 
desks was frozen. 

Singularly enough, most of the evidence clusters 
about the year 1810; and the first witness whom we 
shall call will be the Very Rev. W. R. W. Stephens, 
biographer and son-in-law of Dean Hook: 

“Soon after this the two brothers were removed to 
Tiverton, in Devonshire. Their recollections of the 
school were not pleasant. The teaching was indifferent, 
the discipline severe, and the food scanty. They saved 
up their spare pence to buy buns and loaves to 
alleviate the pangs of hunger. In the letters, however, 
written by Walter at this time there are no complaints, 
and in his handwriting there is a very great improve- 
ment. The style of his letters becomes curiously grand 
and sententious, but they are written then, as ever after, 
in pure, sound English. In one too long for transcrip- 
tion bearing date November Ist, 1811, he begins,— 

“ My dear mamma,— You will with me pity that wicked 


154 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


boy, Henry George Salter, who is now publicly expelled 
from the school; and his master, Master (szc) Richards, 
blotted his name from the Register, October 30th, 1811, 
that it may be handed down to generations. Then 
follows an account of how this wicked boy enticed 
another to run away with him, having borrowed a 
watch, which he afterwards sold, saying they would 
go to London, where he would persuade his grand- 
mother to leave him her immense fortune, which he 
would divide with his companion. The runaways were 
captured, and Salter wrote a contrite letter, upon which 
young Walter observes, ‘Well, so far, one would think 
him to be penitent Salter, but I say Salter the hypocrite’ ; 
and he then goes on to relate how this naughty boy 
repeated the escapade, after which he was expelled in 
the awful manner described in the beginning of the 
letter.” 

We now come to Jack Russell—the famous Parson 
Jack of later years, who often sat side by side with 
the late Archbishop, when Bishop of Exeter, at Old 
Boys’ luncheons, and received from him plenary absolu- 
tion for his indulgences in the hunting-field. Russell 
was in his fourteenth year when he came to Blundell’s 
from Plympton Grammar School, and, like the rest 
of them, was brought up hard. There is a story to 
the effect that the headmaster, returning ‘from his daily 
ride, heard a complaint against Russell, seized him by 
the collar, and thrashed him out of hand with a heavy 
whalebone riding-whip. The late Rev. E. W. L. Davies 
thus relates the cause of the trouble : 

“Old Richards on one occasion found that his boys 
kept rabbits. He ordered them all to be got rid of. 
Now Russell did not keep rabbits, but he did keep ferrets. 


—— > 


HEROES BEFORE AGAMEMNON 155 


A lad named Hunter kept rabbits. Hunter was a 
bully, but he was also a monitor. The monitors then 
as now were a lordly race, and as Russell was but 
a little way above ‘the block,’ he would have been 
expelled to a dead certainty if he had given a practical 
illustration (@ /a Bulteel) of his views of bullying. As 
it was, he was obliged to content himself with putting 
Hunter’s rabbits in along with his ferrets. The rabbits 
naturally got the worst of it, and so in the long run 
did Russell. Not from Hunter, who, like most bullies, 
was a coward at heart, and dared not touch him, but 
from old Richards, to whom Hunter told his tale, and 
who gave Jack the soundest horse-whipping he ever 
had in his life.” 

When he was about sixteen, Russell, tired of ratting 
and rabbiting, began to yearn for the ding-dong of 
the hounds. Almost incredible as it appears, he and 
a kindred spirit named Bob Bovey actually started a 
pack of their own. The farmers, whose 'goodwill he 
had already won with his ferrets, gave him most cordial 
support. One would say “he'd a-got a hare sitting in 
Fuzzy Park bottom, and ef Maister Rissell wid on’y 
bring up his cry, he'd turn un out sure ’nuff.”. Another 
would tell him that his “old blind mare had mit wi’ a 
mishap, got stogged in the mire, zo he’d a-knacked 
her on the ’ead, and Maister Rissell was kindly welcome 
to her vor the dogs!” 

Of course, this sort of thing could not last long. Dr. 
Richards sent for Bob Bovey and expelled him on 
the spot. Then came Russell’s turn. 

“You keep hounds?” said old Richards, blue with 
rage. 

“No, sir,” replied Russell fearlessly. 


156 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


“Do you dare to tell me a lie?” asked the doctor, 
striking the boy with great violence. 

“Tis no lie, sir,’ answered Russell: “Bovey stole 
them yesterday, and sent them home to his father.” 

“That’s lucky for you, or I’d have expelled you 
too,” rejoined Richards. 

Accordingly, Russell stayed on three years longer, 
and gained the speaking medal and an exhibition of 
#30 per annum for four years. The first instalment 
of his exhibition he spent in buying a horse, and 
though he bought him of a friend, that friend, being 
the Rev. John Froude, of Knowstone, could not resist 
the temptation presented by a deal in horse-flesh, and 
cruelly “did” him. 

Mr. Baring-Gould,in his Book of the West, relates the 
following story, which we fancy he must have obtained 
from the Rev. J. B. Hughes, late headmaster of Blundell’s. 
Until we saw it in that work we had never heard of 
it, and can express no opinion as to its truth. 

“I tell the following tale because it was told in 
Blundell’s School of Russell, during his lifetime, as one 
of his pranks, but I mistrust it. I believe the story 
to be as old as the twelfth century ; and if I remember 
aright, it occurs in one of the French Fabliaux of that 
period. 

“Dr. Richards had some very fine grapes growing 
against his garden wall, under the boys’ bedroom 
window. ‘Jack was as good as his master, and the 
young scamp was wont to be let down in a clothes- 
basket by night, by his mates, to the region of the 
grapes, and to return with a supply when hauled up. 

“The Doctor noticed how rapidly his grapes dis- 
appeared, and learning from his man John the cause, 


HEROES BEFORE AGAMEMNON 157 


took his place under the vine with his gardener, who 
was ordered to lay hold of the boy in the basket and 
muffle his mouth, lest he should cry out. This he did 
when Russell descended ; and Richards took his place 
in the clothes-basket. The boys hauled away, wonder- 
ing at the accession of weight, but when they saw the 
Doctor’s head level with the window, panic-stricken 
they let go their hold of the rope, and away went 
Doctor and basket to the bottom. 

“No bones were broken, and nothing came of it, 
the Doctor being rather ashamed of the part he had 
played in the matter.” 

A somewhat different view of Richards from that 
which we find in the foregoing recollections is afforded 
us in some letters of a boy who came to Blundell’s 
from Wiltshire, and ultimately from Wales; and from 
Blundell’s went to Oxford, where he took a first-class, 
and became a fellow and tutor of his college, Vinerian 
scholar, and proctor. In a letter dated “ Tiverton 
School, Wednesday, February 11th, 1318,” he writes: 

“TI suppose you already know that I have left my 
uncle’s paternal roof, and am here in Tiverton. I left 
Broad-Hinton on Tuesday, 3rd of this month, slept 
at Bath that night, left it on Wednesday morning at 
ten o'clock, and then proceeded on my journey, and 
arrived here at four o'clock on Thursday morning. I 
found it very cold all night, as I was outside of the 
coach, and, to add to my discomfort, there was no one 
up at the inn at which the coach stopped here, so that 
I had to stand about in the cold, half-frozen as I was, 
till they had got up to. let me in, but they soon made 
up a comfortable fire. I had my bed warmed, and 
then went to bed. I took my breakfast at the inn 


158 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


next morning, as I was very hungry, not having eaten 
anything since I left Bath ten o'clock the preceeding 
morning. 

“ About twelve o’clock I came to Mr. Richards (the 
headmaster). I was shown to the parlour where he 
was, and after having sat a little while, he took me 
out and introduced me to a couple of head boys who 
were then arrived, and desired them to take care of 
me. He was in every respect kind to me. I break- 
fasted with him in the parlour on Sunday morning. 
He is a married man and his family consists of two 
little girls, the eldest only about four years old. He 
is of a very good disposition, and I like him very 
much, as much as I know of him. I went to school 
on Monday. There are two schoolrooms, one. for the 
lower and the other for the higher classes; but there 
is no fire in them, and we are dreadfully cold while 
there. I am in the higher school, in the third class 
below the head class. We sleep two in a bed no 
bigger than my little desk-bed at home. 

“There are only about a hundred boarders here. 
We have for breakfast a penny roll and about a tea- 
cup-full of milk and water. We are only helped once 
at dinner ; sometimes we get a good plateful, and at 
other times scarcely enough to feed a crow, just as 
it happens. We have a small piece of bread and 
butter or cheese for supper and a teacup-full of beer. 
These are our meals. From what I have said you 
can judge how I am situated, yet I am as comfortable 
as I can expect to be in so large an establishment. 
You must not think, my dear mother, that I am un- 
happy here, for I shall be as happy as a prince when 
I have heard from you. I shall look forward to the 


HEROES BEFORE AGAMEMNON 159 


time when we shall meet again and be able once 
more to talk to each other. I hope you will excuse 
the bad writing, and every other defect in this letter, 
as I am in a hurry to send it by this evening’s post, 
and consider that there are about a dozen boys playing 
and talking together.” 

In another epistle to his mother he observes: 

“T received Tom’s letter on Monday, in which he 
says it is your wish that I should write a long letter, 
so that you might receive it. before Sunday. You 
wished to know every particular as to the school. I 
think it is a very good one, and I trust I shall improve 
under Mr. Richards’ care. Tell Tom and Harry that 
Latin verse is a very essential requirement here, as 
I have to do twenty lines a week (but the class does 
thirty) in our play-hours, and two themes, an English 
and Latin one, every week. I will tell you the books 
I read that you may satisfy yourself. They are Cesar, 
Virgil, Horace, Homer. As to Mr. Richards, he is 
very careful of the boys, if they are unwell or have 
colds or anything the matter with them, so that you 
have no reason to be anxious on that account. We 
can get into no mischief, even if we were disposed, 
which I hope is not the case, as we do not go out- 
side the gates of the play-ground after three o’clock. 

“Our names are called over at half-past seven in 
the morning, when every one who is not in school 
forfeits twopence and stands a good chance of a box 
on the ear from Richards. They are called over again 
at nine when we breakfast; at one, dinner; at six, 
supper ; at eight, when we go to bed,—so that we are 
obliged to be pretty regular. We go to church twice 
a day if it is a fine Sunday, but the Sunday before 


160 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


last being a very wet one, Mr. Richards read prayers 
to a numerous audience, as we were all there. We 
have prayers read every night before we go to bed 
by one of the monitors. We must be tolerably ex- 
peditious in getting into bed, because Mr. Richards 
comes round in about two or three minutes after, and 
if we are not all in bed he is very angry. Sometimes 
the boys hear him come up, perhaps before they have 
pulled off their trousers, and when they try to jump 
in in that state, they get entangled in them sometimes, 
If you send a box, I should like to have a neat pen- 
knife with two blades that is very sharp, and if you 
could send a hone to sharpen it upon and plenty of 
paper, as there is so much writing in this school that 
we fill three sheets of this sized paper [quarto] every 
week; and likewise send some fine paper, a good 
quantity, for letters, and sealing wax and wafers, as 
it will be cheaper than having them here. If Tom 
has got any books that he thinks will be useful, he 
might send them, such as Cornelius Nepos, Xenophon’s 
Memorabilia or Cyropaedia. As to paying the postage 
of the letters, I think you need not do that, as Mr. 
Richards pays for them all, and not the boys. Don’t 
make yourself uneasy by thinking that I am uncomfort- 
able here or anything of that kind, for it is not the 


case.” 
Another boy hailing from Wiltshire was Abraham 


Hayward, who, like Hook, was to become famous. 
His rather remarkable Christian name—which he hated 
—was the surname of his mother’s family. At the 
age of seven he was sent to a private school at Bath, 
and three years later migrated to Blundell’s, where 
it is recorded he found both the diet and discipline 


From a lithograph by B. Rudge. 


INTERIOR OF BLUNIELL’S OLD SCHOOL. 


HEROES BEFORE AGAMEMNON 161 


exceptionally severe. Indeed, it was his belief in after 
life that the hard fare permanently injured his health. 
However, he became a good Latin scholar, an excellent 
swimmer, and a very skilful fisherman and diver. As 
Hayward’s charm was, to a great extent, immediate 
and personal, and so less known and appreciated by 
those of the present generation than by his. own con- 
temporaries, it may be recalled that he had the qualities, 
with their defects, of the finished man of fashion. He 
was an associate of the magnificent Count D’Orsay, 
and, as all Englishmen are said to do, dearly loved 
a duke. Although by no means prepossessing, he was 
a great favourite with women, and made it his boast 
that he wanted only half an hour’s start to beat the 
handsomest man in town. 

But Hayward was no mere superficial dandy. He 
was of sufficient eminence in his profession to become 
a Queen’s Counsel, while a high authority declared 
that for the purposes of cultivated society Lord Macaulay 
and Mr. Hayward were the two best read men in 
London. His chief attraction lay in his ready wit, 
his wonderful power of story-telling, and his repartee. 
This comes out hardly at all in his letters and only 
to a limited degree in his essays, which, however, are 
distinctly more interesting. When asked to write an 
autobiography, he replied, “No, my reminiscences are 
in my essays ;” and, in truth, they are a lasting proof 
of his great literary skill and vast range of reading. 
Many of them originally appeared in the Quarterly. 

While Hayward could scarcely be expected to look 
back on his privations with gratitude, or even patience, 
he would probably have been willing to attribute some 
measure of his success to the mental, and even physical 

II 


oth URE "" 


162 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


training he received at Blundell’s. In his declining 
years he evidently regarded the school with esteem— 
not to say affection; for in 1870 he presented the 
library on its foundation with a copy of his translation 
of Faust, published so long ago as 1832, and still 
reckoned one of the best. Moreover, he complimented 
the school by styling it the “Eton of the West,” which 
description was not exactly flattery, since in Hayward’s 
time, whatever may be the case now, Blundell’s had 
never a rival in the westernmost shires. 


! 


CHAPTER VIII 
TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL'S 


T was on a cold, dark morning in January, 1833, 
that Frederick Temple entered Blundell’s with all 
the uncomfortable sensations of a new boy. One of 
his companions on this occasion—Tom Clarke—still 
survives. He was the son of a gentleman living in 
Bampton Street, Tiverton, and mentions with pardonable 
pride that Temple’s name appears in the old school 
register just below his own. His elder brother, Dick, 
had entered five years earlier, and as he also is in the 
land of the living, must be rapidly qualifying for the 
position of doyen of the school, though, we believe, he 
has not quite attained it. Both brothers knew Temple 
very well, and it adds to the interest of the acquaintance- 
ship that their father, though residing at Tiverton, was 
the owner of the Bridwell estate near Uffculme, and 
in a direct line between the school and Temple’s home 
at Axon. Consequently the fine old hall must have 
been a sort of landmark to the future Archbishop in 
his long trudge twice a week between those consecrated 
spots. One of the monitors in the days of Temple, 
and the very boy in whose charge he was placed, was 
named Edward Pearce. He spent the greater part of 
- his life at Dorchester, where he was partner in the 
bank of Eliot, Pearce & Co., and died in 1885. 
163 


164 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


What were Temple’s first impressions of Blundell’s ? 
We do not know that he has ever described them, but 
it is not difficult to realise his feelings. As the door 
closed behind him with a clang—it is safe to aver that 
no Blundellian “ of the old school” will ever forget that 
awful sound—he must have felt that escape was im- 
possible, and that it was his duty to make the best 
of the trying circumstances. Prayers are read, and 
then the headmaster calls the new boys to his table. 
Already his class have come up to say some work. 
They are the monitors, and naturally inspire the novice 
with instant awe. Probably, after the manner of young 
men, they make fun of points in his personal appear- 
ance. The headmaster examines the other boys, and 
meanwhile the Culmstock lad looks about the room. 

In after life, when recounting his boyish experiences, 
Temple would speak of the panels on the walls as 
“those dear old panels,” and of the roof as “that dear 
old roof,’ but at this moment in his career he probably 
saw nothing dear or fine in them, and he might have 
been excused for doubting whether he was in a barn 
or a church. The caps and gowns were certainly 
ecclesiastical, and the upper and lower master were 
both clergymen. On the other hand, it is likely enough 
that several of the fellows were eating apples; and if 
he had looked very hard, he might perchance have 
seen one boy hand another a ferret. Such, at least, 
were the evil ways of Blundellians seventy years ago. 

At length the master asks him to write his name, 
and the examination over, he is told to go back to 
“the block.” He starts at this expression, and a monitor 
is sent with him into the lower school. The “block” 
turns out to be nothing worse than the bench on which 


TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 165 


the lowest class sit, and from which they take their 
name. At four o'clock he has to answer the usual 
questions, “ What’s your name?” “How old are you?” 
“Where do you live?” “How much money have you 
got?” etc. and is shown the Ironing Box and Poole’s 
Lane, the battlefields of Blundell’s. 

This, it must be confessed, is a fancy sketch, although 
in perfect harmony with the uniform experience of 
boys attending the school, and in that sense authentic. 
But if Temple has given us no complete account of 
the first day of his connection with the school, he 
has recalled one incident sufficiently characteristic. “I 
was sitting,” he said, “in front of the fire in the room 
where we spent our leisure time, when a big boy 
came in and pulled my hair. I was rather a sharp- 
tempered lad, and immediately rising, knocked my 
assailant off the seat on which he was sitting. He 
did not strike me in return, but standing beside me, 
said, ‘You're a plucky little fellow, and no mistake, 
But depend upon it, you'll catch it if you go on like 
that.’” 

We have referred above to Temple’s personal appear- 
ance. The recollections of those who were with him 
at the time enable us to form a tolerably good idea 
of his look and bearing at the age of twelve. Many 
years ago Dr. Salter, late Principal of St. Alban’s Hall, 
Oxford, in a letter to the Rev. J. B. Hughes, observed 
that he perfectly well remembered Temple arriving 
at the school—a tall big-jointed, shambling boy, with 
his long black hair falling over the collar of his jacket ; 
and another old school-fellow, after remarking that he 
was a good football player, proceeds to say, “1 have 
a vivid recollection of the activity he displayed, rushing 


166 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


to and fro with trousers much too short, coarse blue 
worsted stockings, and big heavy shoes.” Woe to the 
player with whom those shoes came in contact! but 
the wearer was not spared in return. 

At first he was unpopular, and very much bullied. 
On one occasion when he was chased by the boys 
round and round the school green, Mrs. Folland, wife 
of the porter, opened the door of the lodge and took 
him in for protection. For this act of kindness the 
lads boycotted her for three weeks—a serious matter, 
since all the boarders bought their “tuck” from her. 
However, the new boy soon asserted himself, and be- 
came one of the best football players in the school. 

Temple’s early unpopularity and Mrs. Folland’s 
solicitude were, no doubt, partly to be accounted for 
by the fact that he was not “inside the gates’—ze,, 
a regular boarder. He lodged indeed with this very 
Mrs. Folland in what was then called Cop’s Court, 
but now is named the Retreat. The entrance to this 
court is in Gold Street, but it runs down in the direction 
of the school, so that Temple, if not inside the gates, 
was not far outside them. Mrs. Folland was known 
to the rising generation of Blundellians as old Mother 
Cop. Her husband was named “Cop” because he 
wore copper boots at flood-time, and so the distinction 
was shared by the wife whom he loved and the court 
wherein he dwelt. Mrs. Folland, a kind, motherly dame, 
looked after Temple with exemplary care, and he repaid 
her attentions with gratitude. For example, she always 
went to bed at nine o'clock, and whenever he called 
on the Clarkes or dined with their relative Mr. Rayer, 
at Tidcombe Rectory, he would always return early so 
as not to keep her up. 


TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 167 


Such conduct reflects much credit on Temple, but 
probably made little impression on the young gentle- 
men, who prided themselves on being within the gates, 
and were disposed to treat other Blundellians as out- 
siders. Blackmore, in Lorna Doone, supplies us with 
a graphic description of the manners of these privileged 
youths and the style in which they rode rough-shod 
over the home-keeping boys. 

“On the 29th day of November, in the year of our 
Lord 1673, the very day when I was twelve years old, 
and had spent all my substance in sweetmeats, with 
which I made treat to the little boys, till the large 
ones ran in and took them, we came out of school 
at five o’clock, as the rule is upon Tuesdays. Accord- 
ing to custom, we drove the day-boys in brave rout 
down the causeway, from the school porch even to 
the gate where Cop has his dwelling and duty. Little 
it recked us and helped them less that they were our 
founder’s citizens, and haply his own grand-nephews 
(for he left no direct descendants), neither did we much 
inquire what their lineage was. For it had been long 
fixed among us who were of the house and chambers, 
that these same day-boys were all ‘caddes, as we 
discovered to call it, because they paid no groat for 
their schooling, and brought their own commons with 
them. In consumption of these we would help them, 
for our fare in hall fed appetite; and while we ate 
their victuals we allowed them freely to talk with us. 
Nevertheless, we could not feel, when all the victuals 
were gone, but that these boys required kicking from 
the premises of Blundell’s. And some of them were 
shop-keepers’ sons, young grocers, fellmongers, and 
poulterers, and these, to their credit, seemed to know 


168 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


how righteous it was to kick them. But others were 
of high family, as any need be, in Devon—Carews, and 
Bouchiers, and Bastards—and some of them would 
turn sometimes, and strike the boy that kicked them. 
But, to do them justice, even these knew they must 
be kicked for not paying.” 

In such an establishment as Blundell’s a day-boy, 
if his existence was to be tolerable, must be either 
a lion or a fox. We have heard of one Tiverton 
lad, bearing the very unusual name of Barzillai, who 
essayed the part of fox, and played it with remark- 
able success. Owing to the privilege which the day- 
boys enjoyed, and the boarders did not, of transacting 
business in the town after three o'clock, Barzillai con- 
stituted himself a sort of agent for the boarders at 
times when they were under restraint, and received 
and executed all kinds of commissions, principally in 
the confectionery line. One day the worthy baker, 
concerned for the boy’s morals, went to his father, a 
fellow-tradesman, and confided to him the extent of 
his dealings. 

“What a stomach your son must have!” he re- 
marked. “And wherever does he get so much money ?” 

“ Don’t you trouble about that,” answered the apothe- 
cary, laughing. “Of one thing you may be certain— 
no matter what money Barzillai may have, he comes 
by it honestly.” 

A Catholic divine, of great culture and erudition, 
has observed, “ Newman was sent to no public school ; 
and we may be thankful that his sensitive nature, 
almost feminine in its delicacy, was not exposed to 
the ways of that barbarian life” And another writer 
of the same church—Father Lockhart—has illustrated 


TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 169 


in a striking way Newman’s art of self-defence in 
those contingencies for which the training of a public 
school may be deemed a special preparation. There 
was a tradition at Oxford in his time that on a market- 
day when the upper end of the High Street, near 
Carfax Church, was much crowded with roughs, and 
the Town and Gown elements were liable to come 
into collision, Newman was walking past All Saints’ 
Church in the line of march of a furiously drunken 
butcher, who came up the street foul-mouthed and 
blasphemous. When they were near together, a muscular 
Christian, who was stroke of his college boat, expecting 
violence, came close behind the butcher, and was just 
making ready to fell him when he saw the man stop 
short—Newman was speaking to him. “My friend,’ he 
said very quietly, “if you thought of the meaning of 
your words you would not say them.” The savage was 
tamed on the spot; he touched his hat, turned round, 
and went back. 

All’s well that ends well, but let us suppose that the 
butcher had been less amenable to reason, and there 
had been no muscular friend at hand to extend his 
protection. How would Newman have fared then? 
Manning and Trench and Wordsworth, who had all 
been at Harrow, might have been trusted to give a 
good account of themselves, and Temple was as muscular 
as any of them. Physical stamina and endurance, one 
of the best results of public school life, is not to 
be decried; and although it may have been well for 
Newman not to have been put through the mill, we 
cannot think that intelligent opinion will favour such 
coddling in the case of average boys, and the practice 
of many Roman Catholic families is entirely opposed 


I70 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


to it. However, the usages of public schools in those 
days were undeniably rough. 

There is a legend at Blundell’s that a commission sat 
at Tiverton to inquire into the malpractices among the 
boys; and the origin of this commission is said to 
have been the burning to death of a new boy in the 
initiatory rite of “roasting.” The process was as follows. 
The big boys, having strapped the new boy sideways 
on a form, placed him with his back as near as might 
be to the hall fire, while they basted him from time 
to time with cold water. Should the tyro stand this 
Indian torture courageously, he was received as worthy 
of the ‘school ; otherwise, he was marked off for further 
bullying. On the occasion in question some sudden 
excitement summoned the boys to the Green; and 
when they came back the sufferer was roasted so as 
to be beyond human aid, and soon after died. A tragic 
variation of the tale makes the elder boys leave the 
hall, and the small boys listen to the agonised cries 


of the victim, whom they feared to help lest, on the © 


return of the big boys, they should themselves occupy 
his place. The story is no doubt partly mythical, 
though it probably assisted in bringing about the 
inquiry which did so much to ameliorate the condition 
of small boys at Blundell’s. 

While such fiendish experiments as these are to be un- 
reservedly condemned, “fagging” in some of its aspects 
—perhaps on the whole—was a beneficent institution. 
The school, for practical purposes, was assembled in two 
houses within the gates. The headmaster’s, or upper 
house, had about forty-five boarders, and the lower house, 
Dr. Boulton’s, about twenty-five. There were many 
day-boys, whose lot, we now know, was unfortunate. 


TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S I71 


Unless they could pay their way by dinners, teas, 
suppers, and outings to favoured boarders, they were 
treated as the scum of the earth, fit only to be bearers 
of messages into forbidden precincts of the town, and 
thrashed at will by any small house-boy who dis- 
approved of their conduct. This the youngster could do 
with impunity, for the small boarder knew, and the big 
day-boy he was licking was equally aware of the fact, 
that the least sign of resistance would inevitably draw 
into the quarrel the whole force of boarderdom, much 
to the disadvantage of the day-boy, who could count 
upon no similar succour. 

As a rule the town boys had little to do with the 
internal affairs of the boarding-houses, but there were 
exceptions. If there was a prospect of turning their 
services to account, the boarders, we may be sure, did 
not lack wit to see it, or audacity to profit by it. A 
case in point occurs to us. One morning, when the day- 
boys arrived as usual to share the tasks of their superiors, 
they were informed that there had been a tremendous 
row during the night. The day before had been the 
Fifth of November, and the doors of the sleeping apart- 
ments having been barricaded, the inmates had kept 
up the anniversary of the Gunpowder Plot in style, 
letting off fireworks through the windows, and. paying 
no heed to the stern demand of the headmaster for 
admission. Crowbars were then sent for and the doors 
forced, after which the names of the ring-leaders were 
taken and order restored for the night. 

The mutineers were now awaiting the consequences ; 
and the day-boys, though they had taken no part in 
the orgy, were required to give their retrospective 
sanction to it. In other words, they were warned that 


172 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


when the headmaster mounted the rostrum to denounce 
penalties on the transgressors, they must receive his 
remarks with hooting, or else they would one and all be 
given a good licking. As the offence was a most serious 
one, involving the expulsion of one or two monitors, and 
the birching of one or two others advanced to the dignity 
of tail-coats, it was, to say the least, a very pretty 
dilemma for those commanded to join in the chorus.! 

Most of the fagging took place in connection with 
the fare, which, as regards the official menus, was no 
better than it had been in Richards’ time, and, indeed, 
from time immemorial. Breakfast consisted of a bowl 
of milk, a warm roll, and a pat of butter, which the 
boys had to spread with their spoons, no knives being 
allowed. For dinner there was a sufficient quantity 
of good meat and vegetables, with a mug of beer ; and 
supper was as primitive as breakfast, being composed 
of a larger slice of bread and butter, a lump of cheese, 
and a mug of beer. We have come upon a difference 
of opinion among old boys regarding this dietary. One 
of them maintains that it was wholesome and sufficient, 
and the small boys were content with it, while another 
maintains that a penny roll looked very small indeed 
to a hungry boy, who had been at work for two hours; 
and suggests that the limited spread may have been 
due to the system of Protection, which still prevailed 
in this country, though soon to be abolished in favour 
of the cheap loaf. 

1 Referring no doubt to this incident, Colonel Cranston Adams 
once said that when at school his name was given up as a ring- 
leader of an unlawful display of fireworks, holden on the Fifth 
of November, and that he was flogged by Mr. Sanders for a thing 


he never did, never wished to do, and could not have done if 
he had. It would be seen what it was to have family luck ! 


TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 1738 


However that may have been, the big boys grew 
fastidious, and formed into small societies or clubs of 
four or five members, which supplied, each for itself, 
a tea-set and some plates, knives, and forks, together 
with a little capital out of which a store of tea and 
coffee was provided. These were known as “ drinking- 
parties.” Whenever one member of the club received 
a hamper, its treasures were placed at the disposal 
of the whole party, and its bacon especially was sent 
down in slices day by day to “Old Mother Cop” at 
the gates to be fried. If she supplied a dinner-plate 
full of fried potatoes browned over, with the fried 
bacon placed on top, she charged one shilling for the 
dish ; but if she simply fried the bacon and returned it 
on a hot pewter plate, she was content with the 
dripping-fat. Mrs. Folland was an excellent cook. 
“She dressed,” said one of her clients, “ everything we 
could afford to get for breakfast, but nothing in my 
recollection was ever so good as the fried potatoes, 
and never since have I tasted that dish in such 
perfection.” 

The working of each of these clubs was confided 
to a senior small boy or “fag,” who was allowed by 
the monitors, the custodians of order, to go into the 
kitchen and perform various jobs for the benefit of his 
employers. His chief duties were to see that the break- 
fast and tea tables were properly laid, the tea properly 
made, the regulation milk obtained, slightly in advance, 
in the morning—cold ; and that enough milk was re- 
tained in the morning to serve for the evening meal. 
He had also to keep the services clean, and for all this 
he shared as one of the club without being required 
to contribute towards its expenses. The situation of 


174 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


“fag” was eagerly sought after by the senior small 
boys. A fag, who was dismissed for drinking out of 
the spout of the teapot after breakfast, protested that 
the charge was unjust—he had only poured the tea 
down his throat out of the spout. The plea, uttered 
with many tears, met with no acceptance, his masters 
failing to recognise the distinction. 

The water with which the boys washed was placed 
in their rooms overnight. It was poured into open 
basins, not jugs, and out of this circumstance arose 
a practice which was partly bullying, partly fagging. 
The monitors and big boys dwelt—we are speaking 
of the upper house—in the kitchen rooms. The 
senior small boys occupied the outer hall and four- 
bedded room, and the small boys tabernacled in the 
inner hall, which communicated at one corner with 
the outer hall and at the opposite corner, diagonally, 
with the headmaster’s apartments. Now the big boys 
liked fresh water for washing purposes, and as the 
inner hall boys could not be got at in time for the 
fetching of it, when the first bell rang, about half a 
dozen outer hallers sprang to their feet and put on 
trousers, stockings, shoes, and shirt. Each seized a 
basin, ran to the one pump of supply, and there, waiting 
his turn, procured a basinful of fresh water for the 
kitchen rooms. There was no precise punishment if 
this were omitted, but there rested on the boy refusing 
to do it in his turn a degree of disfavour, whilst those 
who complied were rewarded with little immunities, 
such as absolution from “bolstering” and fagging at 
cricket or football or the pardon of an accidental lie- 
abed. But waiting one’s turn at the pump in shirt- 
sleeves without any waistcoat on a winter's morning, 


TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 175 


when the thermometer was many degrees below freezing 
point, was bitter cold work. 

Colonel Adams has stated that when he first went 
to school he had to sleep in the inner hall chamber, 
which was locked up every night. If they could afford 
to buy a basin they did ; if not, they went to the pump. 
For eighteen or twenty boys, he said, to go through 
these ablutions ata pump on a cold morning was rather 
severe, but was, no doubt, very wholesome and healthy. 
He added that he had very often to wash at the pump, 
because he, or someone else, broke his basin, but he 
did not know that it did him any great harm. 

When there was a holiday, and the big boys in the 
kitchen felt disposed to divert themselves before break- 
fast, they would get up a “bolstering.” Their weapons 
were bolsters beaten down tight at one end, so as to 
form a hard feather club, with the twisted upper end 
of the bolster as a handle. Their victims were small 
boys selected for minor delinquencies, or for general 
unpopularity in the halls, and each in his turn had to 
lie down on a bed and be pommelled by five bolsterers, 
two on either side and one at the bottom of the bed. 
All prided themselves on the force and regularity of 
their hits, so that unless for a chance foul blow, which 
occasionally came across his midriff and knocked his 
wind out, the victim felt like an anvil smitten by well- 
skilled blacksmiths, who never missed their mark. 

There was another and very cruel form of big-boy 
bullying, of which the masters were perfectly aware, 
but which they were powerless to check. The boys 
dined at two tables—the seniors at a long one, at which 
a master, generally the headmaster, presided ; and the 
small juniors at a short table, where their wants were 


176 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


attended to by the housekeeper. It was thought a 
promotion to go from the little table to the great one, 
but the honour was in some respects costly. At the 
little table every boy had ample time to eat his fill. 
At the upper or long table the boys had a sufficiency 
of food, but as they were helped according to house- 
seniority, it always happened that the seniors were 
half-way through their dinner before the juniors were 
supplied. Here came in the bullying. If a match was 
on (we refer to school-matches ; out-matches were never 
played in those days, for there were no railway facilities, 
and the gates were always closed at 3 p.m.), or if for 
any other reason the big boys wanted to get away, 
they, as soon as they had finished dinner themselves, 
would pass down the word “ Drop arms!” and instantly 
every boy had to lay his knife and fork across his 
plate, and have done with it. It was in vain that the 
master pointed out the unfinished food. “ Appetite had 
failed.” It was in vain also that the master purposely 
kept the whole table waiting. Such mistaken kindness 
_ did but tantalise the hungry small boys, who knew 
but too well what would result to any yielding to 
the temptation to eat. “Drop arms!” always shortened 
the dinner-hour, and sent many a boy almost empty 
away from the dinner-table. 

There was one other form of bullying at the table 
which, though trivial, deserves mention. The knives 
had some of them served for many generations of boys, 
and the two-pronged steel forks had suffered in the 
wars to the extent, in some cases, of losing a prong. 
They were laid indiscriminately, and thus it happened 
daily that a house-senior would find laid for him a 
knife with an extremely attenuated point, and a maimed 


TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 177 


fork. He had the right, which was constantly exercised, 
of exchanging these for any better knife and fork that 
he might find below him, so that if by any accident 
(such as wet weather driving the boys into hall) a 
longer period than usual elapsed between the advent of 
the boys and the coming of the master, a number of 
changes would take place, which would leave the un- 
fortunate juniors with one-pronged forks and knives 
about as strong and as stiff as watch-springs. 

Now as toanother kind of indoor bullying. Of course, . 
every new boy was “cramped,” which means that just 
after he had got over his home-sickness and consequent 
wakefulness of nights, and had acquired the art of 
going off to sleep when he went to bed, tormentors 
would stealthily cover his big toe with a running noose 
passed under the bed-clothes—and pull. The sequel 
need not be described. An amusing story is told with 
reference to this custom ; and, in order that it may be 
perfectly intelligible, it may be as well to remind the 
reader that the inner hall (bed-chambers) communicated 
at one corner with the outer hall (bed-chambers), and 
at the opposite corner with the headmaster’s quarters. 

“Once,” says the narrator, “I recollect our obtaining 
a signal revenge on our tormentors in this wise. I was 
then of the inner hall. One night we received through the 
key-hole—we were locked in—an order from the outer 
hall to cramp ‘ Nibby’ (now a dignitary in the Church, 
and then and always a favourite). ‘ Nibby’ was roused 
and a whispered consultation took place. We knew 
too well what a refusal to obey an order from the 
outer hall meant, and we therefore resolved upon the 
refuge of the weak—evasion. We asked for the cord, 
and it was passed through the key-hole to us, We 

12 


178 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


took out a sufficient length to reach ‘ Nibby’s’ bed, and 
we went through the form of making it fast to his toe ; 
only instead of his toe we substituted a small toggle 
of wood, which we placed in his hands. Then we 
signalled through the key-hole that all was right, and 
the outer hallers began to pull in their line. ‘ Nibby,’ 
of course, followed the pullers, protesting, hopping, 
making noises, and otherwise much exhilarating the 
outer hallers. 

“ Meanwhile we remained in our beds, quiet as mice, 
for an ominous light flitting around the door leading 
into the headmaster’s quarters had given us a caution. 
On a whisper to ‘Nibby’ he left the toggle of wood, 
which represented his toe, against the keyhole of the 
outer hall door and retreated swiftly to his bed. 
Just as he had done so the private door opened, and 
the headmaster and old Rich, his butler, swept through 
the room, and—well, we just had our revenge in seeing 
what happened to the Outer Hallers next morning. 
They didn’t try ‘cramping’ us again after that, and 
they were thoroughly laughed at into the bargain.” 

Another form of bullying was “ pulling out.” If a 
boy had made himself objectionable to his fellows, or 
if—which was much the same in that imperfect state 
of civilisation—he was a stranger or new boy, he was 
apt to be “pulled out.” By this is meant that when 
time enough had been allowed him to go to sleep, either 
he would be turned right over on to the floor between 
his bed and the next, or he would be landed bodily on 
the floor at the foot of the bed—mattress, feather- 
bed, clothes and all—and suffered in each case to pick 
himself up as best he could. 

There was a kind of bullying extant at Blundell’s 


TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 179 


to which not a few of those subjected to it have 
accorded their approval—namely “sheep-washing.” 
Small boys, and especially new boys, were taken up 
to Taunton Pool, and having been stripped, were hurled 
into the deepest part of it, to swim if they had the 
presence of mind to try it, or to sink if they had not. 
There was always plenty of rescue near, and therefore 
no danger in the pastime, and the teaching it gave 
to bold boys, who had self-possession and resource, 
far outweighed its disadvantages in frightening milk- 
sops. R.D. Blackmore depicts the process, no doubt 
from experience, in the immortal pages of Lorna Doone. 

“Of all the things I learnt at Blundell’s, only two 
abode with me, and one of these was the knack of 
fishing, and the other the art of swimming. And 
indeed, they have a very rude manner of teaching 
children to swim there; for the big boys take the 
little boys and put them through a certain process 
which they grimly call ‘sheep-washing. In the third 
meadow from the gate of the school, going up the 
river, there is a fine pool in the Lowman, where the 
Taunton brook comes in, and they call it the ‘ Taunton 
Pool” The water runs down with a strong, sharp 
stickle, and then has a sudden elbow in it, where the 
small brook trickles in; and on that side the bank 
is steep, four, or it may be five, feet high, overhanging 
loamily ; but on the other side it is flat, pebbly, fit 
to land upon. Now the large boys take the small 
boys, crying sadly for mercy, and thinking, mayhap, 
of their mothers; with hands laid well at the back 
of their necks, they bring them up to the crest of 
the bank upon the eastern side, and make them strip 
their clothes off. Then the little boys, falling on their 


180 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


naked knees, blubber upwards piteously, but the large 
boys know what is good for them and will not be 
entreated. So they cast them down, one after other, 
into the splash of the water, and watch them go to 
the bottom first, and then come up and fight for it, 
with a blowing and a bubbling. It is a very fair 
sight to watch, when you know there is little danger ; 
because, although the pool is deep, the current is 
sure to wash a boy up on the stones, where the end 
of the depth is. 

“As for me, they had no need to throw me more 
than once, because I jumped in of my own accord, 
thinking small things of the Lowman after the violent 
Lynn. Nevertheless, I learnt to swim there, as all 
the other boys did ; for the greatest point in learning 
that is to find out that you must do it. I loved 
the water naturally, and could not long be out of it; 
but even the boys who hated it most came to swim 
in some fashion or other, after they had been flung, 
for a year or two, into the Taunton Pool.” 

Blackmore speaks of fishing. This too had its 
accompaniment of bullying, for at the old pump in 
the court the! younger boys were made to clean out 
minnows, which were caught by the bigger boys. It 
was their practice to put these minnows into a bottle 
with a little vinegar and a few bay leaves, and they 
would then consider them a toothsome morsel. Another 
of the duties of the younger boys was to clean out 
and blow’ up by means of a quill an old football, 
which often had a most unpleasant smell. Hardly 
a day passed that did not bring with it acts of bullying 
which would now be regarded as exaggerated and 
far beyond the limit of toleration, but no notice was 


TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 181 


then taken of them, so common were they. The acts 
of which we are speaking differed from the foregoing, 
which were part of a system, and, whether good or 
bad, helped to shape the character and career of every 
son of Blundell. The irregular outbreaks of domineer- 
ing seniors, though possibly inspired by example and 
remembrance of what had happened to themselves, be- 
longed to quite another category, for they spelt more 
than hardship—injustice. Take, for instance, the follow- 
ing. A small boy was requested (z.e. ordered) by a 
big boy—afterwards a “ dear, good, hard-working clergy- 
man ”—to remove from his finger a bit of broken skin. 
He did it clumsily, and as the result had to stand up 
before his superior and be hit seven times in the wind. 
The boy ought to have died, but he was tough enough 
to survive. 

There was no redress. The masters were a class 
apart. They sat and heard the lessons in the schools ; 
they came into the hall and heard prayers read on 
holidays; one of them—usually the headmaster— 
presided at dinner; and they came round to see that 
their charges were in bed. But there the connection 
ended. They took no part in the house-rule. The big 
boys saw to that. 

Of all the institutions at Blundell’s the first and most 
prominent was the duel. Fighting of all sorts was 
discouraged by the masters, and fighting on sudden 
provocation was discouraged by the big boys. A fight 
quick on the quarrel was never heard of, except now 
and then when a dispute ended in a combat in one 
of the bed-chambers, which served the senior small 
boys as studies in the afternoon. But all this not- 
withstanding, insult given and received had to be 


182 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


avenged by a fisticuff fight. Again, the big boys 
arranged that. 

The favourite time and place for fighting was Thursday 
afternoon, which was a _ half-holiday, and outside the 
upper school under shelter of the porch—so, at least, 
says one account. Unless the occasion was of unusual 
interest the spectators were but few. Two or three big 
boys attended to the fairness of the play, and just who 
liked looked on. But, besides this, fights with single 
seconds took place up Lowman, and fights still further 
up the river on a spot where a large ring showed. En- 
counters also are remembered as having come off in 
the Lower School. Once a challenge given in the 
churchyard of St. Peter’s through a quarrel between 
two monitors in church resulted in a tremendous battle 
up Lowman. None of the small boys desired this 
fighting, but the evil traditions of the school, preserved 
among the elder ones, rendered it inevitable. 

In the foregoing description we have been guided by 
the recollections of an old boy, who seems to have been 
deeply versed in all that went on at the school in his 
day, which coincided roughly with Temple’s day. We 
are, however, bound to confess that in certain particulars 
his reminiscences conflict with rooted traditions on the 
subject. The spot commonly associated with school 
fights is a triangular plot of grass bounded by two 
paths leading to the main causeway, which plot was 
called the Ironing Box. In more peaceful times it 
was used for quoits. “Once soon after I came,” says 
a pupil of Sanders, “I had the satisfaction of meeting 
on it [the Ironing Box] a boy who began to bully me 
from the first, but after our meeting we lived on equal 
terms. The affair was conducted on the principles so 


TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 183 


eloquently described by Mr. Blackmore in his Homeric 
account of the meeting of John Ridd and Robin Snell, 
which, I suppose, every Blundell’s boy knows by heart.” 
We are not so sure of that ; anyhow, it will be as well 
to turn to the book and refresh our memory of the 
historic scene. The narrative is rather long to be cited 
in full; we will try, as far as possible, to abridge it. 

“ A certain boy leaning up against me would not allow 
my elbow room, and struck me very sadly in the 
stomach part, though his own was full of my parliament. 
And this I felt so unkindly that I smote him straight- 
way in the face without tarrying to consider it, or 
weighing the question duly. Upon this he put his 
head down and presented it so vehemently at the 
middle of my waistcoat that for a moment or two my 
breath seemed dropped, as it were, from my pockets, 
and my life seemed to stop from great want of ease. 
Before I came to myself again, it had been settled for 
us that we should move to the Ironing Box, as the 
triangle of turf is called, where the two causeways 
coming from the school porch and the hall porch meet 
and our fights are mainly celebrated; only we must 
wait until the convoy of horses had passed, and then 
make a ring by candle-light, and the other boys would 
ike it)... 

“By this time the question of fighting was quite 
gone out of our discretion; for certain of the elder 
boys, grave and reverend signiors, who had taken no 
small pleasure in teaching our hands to fight, to ward, 
to parry, to feign and counter, to lunge in the manner 
of sword-play, and the weaker child to drop on one 
knee, when no cunning or fence might baffle the onset 
—these great masters of the art, who would far liefer see 


184 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


us little ones practise it than themselves engage, six or 
seven of them came running down the rounded causeway, 
having heard that there had arisen a ‘snug little mill’ 
at the gate. Now whether that word hath origin in 
a Greek term meaning a conflict, as the best-read boys 
asseverated, or whether it is nothing more than a figure 
of similitude, from the beating arms of a mill, such as 
I have seen in counties where there are no water-brooks, 
but people made bread with wind—it is not for a man 
devoid of scholarship to determine; enough that they 
who made the ring intituled the scene a ‘mill, while 
we who must be thumped inside it tried to rejoice in 
their pleasantry till it turned upon the stomach. 

“ Moreover, I felt upon me was a certain responsibility, 
a dutiful need to maintain, in the presence of John 
Fry, the manliness of the Ridd family and the honour 
of Exmoor. Hitherto none had worsted me, although 
in the three years of my schooling I had fought more 
than three-score battles, and bedewed with blood every 
plant of grass towards the middle of the Ironing Box. 
And this success I owed at first to no skill of my own, 
until I came to know better; for up to twenty or 
thirty fights I struck as nature guided me, no wiser 
than a father-longlegs in the heat of a lanthorn, but I 
had conquered, partly through my native strength and 
the Exmoor toughness in me, and still more that I 
could not see when I had gotten my bellyful. And 
now I was like to have that, and more; for my heart 
was down to begin with; and then Robin Snell was 
a bigger boy than I had ever encountered, and as thick 
in the skull, and hard in the brain, as ever I could 
claim’ to: bec + 


“Tt is not a very large piece of ground in the angle 


R. D. BLACKMORE. 


From an unpublished photograth, by kind permission of Mr. Frederick Jenkins. 


ps 


TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 185 


of the causeways, but quite big enough to fight upon, 
especially for Christians, who have to be cheek by jowl 
at it. The great boys stood in a circle around, being 
gifted with strong privilege, and the little boys had 
to lie flat and look through the legs of the great boys. 
But while we were yet preparing, and the candles 
hissed in the fog-cloud, old Phoebe, of more than four- 
score years, whose room was over the hall porch, came 
hobbling out, as she always did to mar the joy of 
the conflict. No one ever heeded her, neither did she 
expect it; but the evil was that two senior boys must 
always lose the first round of the fight, by having to 
lead her home again. 

“JT marvel how Robin Snell felt. Very likely he 
thought nothing of it, having always been a boy of an 
hectoring and unruly sort. But I felt my heart go 
up and down, as the boys came round to strip me, and 
greatly fearing to be beaten, I blew upon my knuckles. 
Then pulled I off my little cut jerkin, and laid it 
down on my head-cap, and over that my waistcoat ; 
and a boy was proud to take care of them. Thomas 
Hooper was his name, and I remember how he looked 
at me. My mother had made that little cut jerkin 
in the quiet winter evenings, and taken pride to loop it 
up in a fashionable way, and I was loth to spoil it with 
blood, and good filberds were in the pocket. Then up 
to me came Robin Snell (mayor of Exeter thrice since 
that) and he stood very square, and looked at me, and 
I lacked not to look at him. Round his waist he had 
a kerchief, busking up his small-clothes, and on his 
feet light pumpkin shoes, and all his upper raiment 
off. And he danced about in a way that made my 
head swim on my shoulders, and he stood some inches 


186 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


over me. But I, being muddled with much doubt about 
John Fry and his errand, was only stripped of my 
jerkin and waistcoat, and not comfortable to begin. 

“*Come now, shake hands,’ cried a big boy, jumping 
in joy of the spectacle, a third former, nearly six feet 
high ; ‘shake hands, you little devils. Keep your pluck 
up, and show good sport, and the Lord love the better 
man of you!’ 

“Robin took me by the hand, and gazed at me 
disdainfully, and then smote me painfully in the face 
before I could get my fence up. 

“«What be bout, lad?’ cried John Fry; ‘hutt un 
again, Jan, wull’e? Well done, our Jan boy.’ 

“For I had replied to Robin now with all the weight 
and cadence of penthemimeral czsura (a thing, the 
name of which I knew, but could never make head 
or tail of it), and the strife began in a serious style, 
and the boys looking on were not cheated. Although 
I could not collect their shouts when the blows were 
ringing on me, it was no great loss; for John Fry told 
me afterwards that their oaths went up like a furnace 
fire. But to these we paid no heed or hap, being in 
the thick of swinging, and devoid of judgment. All 
I know is, I came to my corner, when the round was 
over, with very hard pumps on my chest, and a great 
desire to fall away. 

“«Time is up, cried head-monitor, ere ever I got 
my breath again, and when I fain would have lingered 
awhile on the knee of the boy that held me, John 
Fry had come up, and the boys were laughing because 
he wanted a stable lanthorn, and threatened to tell 
my mother. 

“*Time is up,’ cried another boy, more headlong 


¥ 


than head-monitor. ‘If we count three before the 
come of thee, thwacked thou art, and must go to the 
women. | felt it hard upon me. He began to count 
one, two, three, but before the ‘three’ was out of his 
mouth J was facing my foe, with both hands up, and 
my breath going rough and hot, and resolved to wait 
the turn of it. For I had found seat on the knee of 
a boy, sage and skilled to tutor me, who knew how 
much the end very often differs from the beginning. 
A rare ripe scholar he was; and now he hath routed 
up the Germans in the matter of criticism. Sure, the 
clever men and boys have most love towards the 
stupid ones. 

“Finish him off, Bob, cried a big boy, and that 
I noticed especially, because I thought it unkind of 
him, after eating of my toffee, as he had that afternoon ; 
‘finish him off, neck and crop ; he deserves it for sticking 
up to a man like you.’ 

“But I was not to be finished off, though feeling 
in my knuckles now as though it were a blueness and 
a sense of chilblain. Nothing held except my legs, 
and they were good to help me. So this bout, or 
round, if you please, was foughten warily by me, with 
gentle recollection of what my tutor, the clever boy, 
had told me, and some resolve to earn his praise before 
I came back to knee again. But never, I think, in 
all my life, sounded sweeter words in my ears (except 
when my love loved me) than when my second and 
backer, who had himself part of my doings now, and 
would have wept to see me beaten, said: 

““Famously done, Jack, famously! Only keep your 
wind up, Jack, and you'll go right through him!’ 

“Meanwhile John Fry was prowling about, asking 


TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 187 


1 a 
rv “i 
x 


188 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


the boys what they thought of it, and whether I was 
like to be killed because of my mother’s trouble. But 
finding now that I had foughten three-score fights 
already, he came up to me woefully, in the quickness 
of my breathing, while I sat on the knee of my second, 


q 


with a piece of spongious coralline to ease me of my 


bloodshed, and he says in my ears, as if he was clapping 
spurs into a horse : 

“* Never thee knack under, Jan, or never coom naigh 
Hexmoor no more.’ 

“With that it was all up with me A simmering 
buzzed in my heavy brain, and a light came through 
my eye-places. At once I set both fists again, and 
my heart stuck to me like cobblers wax. Either 
Robin Snell should kill me, or I would conquer Robin 
Snell. So I went in again, with my courage up; and 
Bob came smiling for victory, and I hated him for 
smiling. He let at me with his left hand, and I gave 
him my right between his eyes, and he blinked, and was 
not pleased with it. I feared him not, and spared 
him not, neither spared myself. My breath came again, 
and my heart stood cool, and my eyes struck fire no 
longer; only I knew that. I would die rather than 


shame my birthplace. How the rest of it was I know 


not, only that I had the end of it, and helped to put 
Robin in bed.” 

Temple’s first fight was very much of this description 
save that his opponent did not put in anything like 
so desperate a resistance as Robin Snell. Mr. Thomas 
Clarke well remembers the occasion, and testifies that 
the enemy was soon sent running off. Referring to 
this encounter in his old age, the late Archbishop 
observed, “He was not a good boy, I am sorry to 


TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 189 


say, and to tell the truth, he was a bit of a coward. 
He hit out at me, but I contrived to dodge him, and 
then my turn came. The end of it was that he turned 
tail, and ran away, with me after him, shouting as he 
went, ‘Take him off, take him off.’” Dr. Temple 
recalled this incident with evident pleasure, mentioning 
that his antagonist was six inches, or more, taller than 
himself. But he had the candour to add that, unlike 
John Ridd, he was not uniformly successful. 

An old Tiverton butcher named Davey, who was full 
of reminiscences of former times, and had a singularly 
retentive and accurate memory, assured us that one of 
Temple’s adversaries was a youth who afterwards 
prospered as “mine host” of the White Horse—an 
ancient place of entertainment, at whose sign the 
Cavaliers had hanged an obstreperous Puritan miller. 
This fight between the future Boniface and the future 
Archbishop has always seemed to us a notable instance 
of “coming events casting their shadows before” ; and, 
looked at in this way, may rank as a symbol of the 
never-ending battle between Ormasd and Ahriman, 
between light and darkness. Dr. Temple was, of 
course, a staunch advocate of total abstinence. 

One result of this coarse fighting temper was that the 
juniors were not only encouraged, but compelled, by 
the big boys to fight outside the gates as well as in. 
The boy-world of Tiverton was in those days divided 
into three sections. First there was the aristocracy, 
named by themselves Blundell’s boys, and nicknamed 
by their enemies “tin-pots” or “tay-pots.”! Secondly, 


1 Some uncertainty exists on this point. If “tin-pots” is right, 
the name may be explained as a pun on Latin scholars, “Latin” 
meaning tin, or more simply as an abbreviation of “ Latin,” the last 


1g i 
‘St 


190 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


there were the “Blue” boys of the rival foundation 
school, hated by the Blundellians, who at the same time 
regarded them as beneath contempt. And thirdly, there 
were their direct opponents, the “cads,” or “ chaws,” as 
they were sometimes called. The precise status of these 
“cads” was somewhat doubtful, but it was shrewdly 
suspected that somewhere in the town there was a 
“commercial” boarding-school. If so, its existence was 
known only to be ignored. Now these “cads” would 
nvade up Lowman, and bathe in Taunton Pool, the 
school bathing-place, now abolished ; and against them 
the big boys compelled the small scholars to wage 
incessant war. If more than two of them met any 
number of “cads” without offering battle, they would 
have an account to settle when they got home and the 
circumstance was found out, while a beating given by 
the “cads” to small parties was, as a rule, speedily 
avenged. 

It is remembered that on one occasion a number of 
Blundellians going up Lowman met two of their small 
boys badly beaten, and with their fishing-rods broken. 
A large party of “cads” had done it on their way to 
Taunton Pool. The Blundellians returned for reinforce- 
ments, and proceeded to the Pool, on approaching which 
they descried a big detachment of the foe bathing. 
Withy rods were cut, and about a third of their number 
crossed the river, and, favoured by the high bank on the 
left, surrounded the Pool, cutting off the “cads” from 
their clothes. Then, as the miserable wretches were 


syllable being alone preserved. ‘ Tay-pots” or “ tay-kettles,” on the 
other hand, would refer to the recitations or “spoutings” which 
were part of the school discipline, and in which the boys were 
taught to strike an attitude. 


, 
a 


TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S IgI 


compelled by cold to come to land, the avengers thrashed 
their naked bodies with the rods. We may not ask 
whether such conduct was gentlemanly, or brave, or a 
credit to the boys concerned. Such questions are futile, 
for the simple reason that it was the use of the school 
in those times. Moreover, the party was led by a 
well-placed boy in the third form, the class then next 
the monitors. Not the least interesting part of the 
affair was the sequel. The parents of the beaten 
boys came that afternoon and made complaint, and 
the beaten lads themselves appeared in order to 
identify their assailants. The masters threatened the 
culprits with expulsion, gave them time to change their 
clothes, and when they mustered in the upper school, 
no identification took place. 

And now for what we are sure must interest every- 
body—the Archbishop’s verdict on this remarkable 
state of things. It was given at St. Edmund’s School— 
the boys’ institution in connection with the Clergy 
Orphan Corporation—Canterbury. 

“The school which I attended was certainly a very 
good school at the time I was there, although of a 
rougher kind than would be usual in England now. 
It was my lot at school always to have to wash at the 
pump in the morning. All the boys washed at the 
pump. It was not, in some respects, as nice as 
washing in one’s bedroom, but it had its merits, because 
if a boy was inclined not to wash himself the others 
washed him. I have before now helped to hold a 
fellow under the pump because we did not consider 
that he had washed enough. It was altogether a 
rougher state of things than now exists. 

“Then, too, we had in the school a great deal of 


192 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


fighting, which has now wonderfully diminished. We 
used to fight each other on rather small provocation 
con amore, and, as a general rule, if two fellows fought 
they became intimate friends before they left the school, 
and dated their friendship from the time they used 
their fists on each other’s faces. But the school 
possessed a characteristic which, I think, especially 
clings to English schools, and that was that the boys 
at bottom were high-minded, gentlemanly fellows. I 
am afraid that in those days the boys did tell untruths 
to the masters, but they considered themselves bound 
never to tell lies to anybody else. In those days the 
masters were looked upon as enemies in every way, 
to be plagued and tormented, if it could be done 
with safety. I think that feeling has now entirely 
disappeared. Nowadays the masters take part in the 
boys’ games, and the level of teaching has become 
more Christian, and certainly animated by a higher 
spirit.” 

Pagan as Blundell’s may have been, it was able 
to inspire the boarders, if not the day-boys, with the 
deepest affection, which continued to their latest breath. 
Some years ago Mr. W. F. Dewey related that once 
in London he was summoned to the bedside of a dying 
man who had sent for him solely because he had been 
a fellow-student of his at Blundell’s. The dying man 
talked to him about the school, and showed great 
delight in his recollections. As regards the day-boys 
we are less certain. Temple and Blackmore, who (and 
this may have made a difference) were only town-boys 
by adoption, seem to have digested any unpleasant 
memories, and not merely forgiven—clearly, they loved 

the school. But we have a vivid remembrance of 


TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 193 


an interview with a grizzled old general, who had seen 
service in all parts of the world, who bore an honoured 
name, and who hated Blundell’s, because he had been 
bullied, and bullied unmercifully, there. He had been 
a day-boy. 


* aq 


CHAPTER) & 
HUMOURS OF A COUNTRY TOWN 


ROM what has preceded it is evident that the 
annals of Blundell’s School and its most illus- 
trious disciple cannot be separated from those of the 
town of Tiverton, though—with sadness we confess it— 
the relations between school and town have not seldom 
been anything but amicable. So far as Archbishop 
Temple is concerned, such separation is plainly im- 
possible, partly because he lodged in the town and 
was a day-boy, and partly because he would have 
seen no point in the distinction, his love for Tiverton 
being only second to his love for Blundell’s, and the 
whole forming part of his deep and heart-felt attach- 
ment to the old county of Devon. Town and Gown 
touched at so many points that we might have experi- 
enced a difficulty in deciding where to begin, but as 
attention is being directed to Blundell’s boys, and to 
Temple in particular, there is no room for doubt or 
hesitation. We must speak first of the hope of Tiverton 
—the “Blue” boys and the “cads,” with whom those 
favoured youths were always more or less at variance. 
To describe the Bluecoat School as a vzval establish- 
ment to Blundell’s is to accomplish a delicate stroke of 
humour or irony, for the children—they were of both 
194 


HUMOURS OF A COUNTRY TOWN 195 


sexes, not only boys—frequenting that academy were 
drawn from a different social stratum even from the 
humblest of “caddish” Blundellians, being in the 
most literal sense “charity boys” ; whereas the others, 
if they paid no groat for their schooling, for the 
most part entered Blundell’s to finish their education. 
It has been stated by an old Blue boy, who was 
a contemporary of Temple and remembered him well, 
that his schoolfellows were better writers and ready- 
reckoners, and more articulate speakers, than the mass 
of scholars to-day. This witness and encomiast of days 
gone by was one of the boys privileged to be elected 
to the great social and educational advantages of the 
charity school, as it stood in St. Peter’s churchyard. 
Richly endowed by generous and impartial patrons, it 
was yet part and parcel of the church-house, the boys 
and girls being required, in return for their clothing and 
instruction, to be diligent church-goers, both Sundays 
and week-days. 

The master of the boys was Hugh Wood, and the 
mistress of the girls Joan Gill. Each had fifty scholars, 
who were admitted at nine years of age, and to whom 
various occupations were assigned. The girls began 
with spinning wool into worsted, and later they were 
taught to knit their own worsted into stockings. This 
knitting, by the way, was a kind of task work, as 
‘two hundred pairs had to be turned out per annum, 
the dirty and “ holy ” adornments being discarded every 
half-year. It is possible that those girls who failed to 
accomplish their tasks were punished with “tatey” 
heels longer than the others ; and when the day came 
for them to go into the boys’ school to learn writing— 
as they did when they had reached the susceptible age 


196 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


of from twelve to fourteen years—the exposure would 
be a severe infliction, worse than any amount of cor- 
poral punishment. And, saying this, we lay not the 
soft impeachment against the respectable master and 
mistress that corporal punishment was not exercised 
by them. On the contrary, their reputation for ability 
to “lay it on,” whether in respect of hand or back or 
any other portion of the human anatomy, was equal 
to that of the best pedagogue of the time. The method 
of correcting refractory boys—our friend did not testify 
whether girls were so treated—was original, the culprit 
being hoisted up on the back of another boy, who 
held his hands, so that the spanking was rendered 
easier for the far from lenient master, who, we were 
assured, was as strict with the girls as with the boys. 
The young ladies, it need not -be said, received no en- 
couragement from Mr. Wood in winking and “carrying 
on” with the bashful lads who sat opposite, and by whom 
the writing days were anticipated with mixed feelings. 
They might even then have been laying the founda- 
tions of deep matrimonial schemes, to be carried into 
effect when the tight knee-breeches were superseded by 
the more modish trousers. When our late friend first 
went to school the suits were of grey material, but 
as the colour was thought to be not quite in keeping 
with the character and dignity of the establishment 
it was altered to blue. But a difficulty arose about 
the stockings. In order to change the colour of these 
also, the boys were sent in pairs to the old dye-house— 
then where the Tiverton Drill Hall now stands— 
having the stockings slung from a broom-handle which 
rested on their shoulders. Now mark what wickedness 
there was amongst boys seventy years ago! The 


HUMOURS OF A COUNTRY TOWN 197 


stockings, fastened together at the toes, were dipped 
into a blue dye, and handed back to the boys streaming 
wet. When the lads returned to the school they 
might have been taken for “missing links” with the 
blue-faced monkeys, so freely had they indulged in 
smearing each other on the way. The stockings, still 
wet, were served out by the master and mistress, and 
the gratified recipients took them home to be rinsed. 
Our lamented friend washed his stockings in the Low- 
man, down by the bridewell. 

Next came the great annual treat, when the new 
clothes were inspected by the “benefactors.” As the 
school was endowed it is hard to say why anybody 


.should be so distinguished, but the nomination of the 


boys and girls rested, it seems, with certain of the 
inhabitants. The scholars, then, having been properly 
drilled by the frequent repetition of their speech, were 
paired up and set off, generally on the last Monday 
of November, to the houses of the gentry. Hand 
in hand they walked through the town in their new 
habiliments. How idyllic! 

Arrived at the door of the “benefactor,” the eldest 
would summon up courage to strike with the mighty 
knocker, and they would be invited indoors. Gathering 
up more courage for the speech, they would say, “We 
are sent here by Joan Gill and Hugh Wood to return 
thanks for our clothing and good education ;” and then 
they were “paced” by the benefactor, somewhat in 
the manner of an expert tailor, to show off the figure 
and form and fit. Approval] was generally expressed 
by the bestowal of sixpence each, and an invitation 
to “something to eat” in the kitchen. What became 
of the sixpence we cannot say. We imagine, however 


198 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


that there was the usual standing treat of coffee and 
ginger-beer by the boys, and then would come the 
turn of the girls. So it is safe to conjecture that 
nothing was left for the fathers and mothers, wherewith 
to mark the auspicious day. 

Sundered from Blundell’s School by the sluggish 
Lowman lay one of the most disreputable parts of 
the town, called Elmore. It was tenanted by all 
sorts of dissolute people ; indeed, the whole quarter 
from Cherry Gardens to Lowman Bridge was compared 
to a well-known Biblical city, in that there was not 
a righteous man in it—no, not one. Every denizen, 
whether male or female, was utterly depraved, and 
there was a kind of conspiracy among them to check 
every advance made from outside with a view to 
improve and elevate them. They had a special aversion 
for the watchman—a thoroughly incompetent official, 
who has been happily replaced by the more courageous 
police-constable. Sunday observances in Elmore were 
usually carried out in due form round the cock-pit, 
or held round the tables set up here and there for 
the purpose of bearing the weight of jars or mugs 
of foaming brown, which was readily supplied by the 
publicans. How long the tables, chairs, and occupants 
remained upright is a problem, but disturbances and 
free fights were of daily and nightly occurrence, and 
the special constables of the district, when summoned 
to quell an affray, would advance far enough to observe 
the number of those who were participating, and then 
beat a hasty, if discreet, retreat to a more desirable 
neighbourhood. 

On fair-days the “ Stretch, ” since covered with decent 
dwelling-houses and a school and mission-room, was 


HUMOURS OF A COUNTRY TOWN 199 


the domicile of proprietors of dancing bears, monkeys, 
and other portable menageries, and a perfect pande- 
monium reigned until they took their departure to 
fresh woods and pastures new. The more tractable 
of the inhabitants of Elmore were not beneath, or 
above, practical joking. It was no unusual event 
for churchgoers to find suspended from the rails in 
front of the building the announcement, “ Mangling 
done here.” Nor was it a rare occurrence for those 
whose names graced their front doors to discover that 
during the night an unskilled artist, with a paint brush 
and pot, had added to or substracted from the original 
embellishments, so that the name had become un- 
recognisable to the owner or tenant as belonging to 
him. A really colossal freak of this order was perpe- 
trated one Saturday night. The next morning, as the 
people were entering St. Peter’s Church by the south 
porch, they were shocked at seeing, stuck on the top 
of the monument of Martin Dunsford, the venerated 
historian of the town, an enormous hat, two or three 
feet high, with a proportionately wide circumference. 
This hat was painted black, except for an aggressively 
bold inscription in gold letters—“Collard, hatter.” 
This had been removed from its place over the owner’s 
shop during the night by skylarkers, who, it transpired, 
had at the same time detached a barber’s pole from 
one Hurley’s shop, opposite the Angel, and nailed 
it against that of a well-known lawyer of the town, 
who had the reputation of being a terribly close shaver 
of his clients. But these were tricks of a mild 
description ; the worst phases of Elmore are as un- 
mentionable as they are scarcely imaginable now. 
Eccentric characters are a never-failing source of 


200 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


amusement to boys, and Tiverton appears to have 
been exceptionally well provided with such specimens. 
As we have been speaking of Elmore, we may begin 
with an individual hailing from that neighbourhood, 
although his work lay in a remote quarter of the town. 
Gath’s factory, once a hive of prosperous industry, 
has been closed for many decades, probably none 
of the employés being now alive to tell its tale. Situ- 
ated at the bottom of Westexe, it carried on a con- 
siderable trade in the manufacture of woollen fabrics, 
and afforded employment to men and women, and 
boys and girls. The workpeople were generally derided 
as “greasy factory hands,” presumably from the peculiar 
nature of their employment, in which it was necessary 
to use oil. Certain it is that the “hands,” young and old, 
were distinguished for their dirty and greasy appearance. 
The wages, too, at this factory were on so low a scale 
as barely sufficed to keep the employés ftom the 
parish. 

Among these was a man well known, not only among 
his fellows in the mill, but in the town at large, 
named John Hex, but nick-named “ Plant-the-leg.” 
It would have been hardly correct to call him an 
imbecile, for not only was he able to perform his allotted 
task at Messrs. Gath’s “greasy” establishment, but he had 
a mind stored with an infinite quantity of odd sayings 
and quotations, which, like Shakespeare’s “fool in the 
forest,” he would vent in mangled forms. John had a 
weakness, also, in the shape of over-attachment to the 
ale-house ; and it was in the evening, when he returned 
to his home in Elmore by a zig-zag course through the 
streets, that his characteristic qualities became manifest. 
A number of boys, and sometimes men, would stop him 


ae 


HUMOURS OF A COUNTRY TOWN 201 


with the demand, “Plant your leg, John Hex, and 
spout!” Whereupon he would assume the attitude that 
gave rise to the term “plant,” and regale them witha 
homely saying, a proverb from Solomon, or a couplet 
of poetry. Our informant, when a boy, heard him deliver 
himself of such aphorisms as the following: 

“ Man goeth forth to his labour till the evening.” 

“One soweth, another reapeth.” 

“Let not ambition mock our useful toil.” 

“ The juice of the grape for the high and haughty, the 


_ meaner liquor for the poor and needy,” ete. 


It remains to be told that, to the great regret of 
the townsfolk, the old factory had to be closed, and 
many, too many, of the “greasy” workpeople were 
compelled to go upon the rates or embrace the alterna- 
tive—the workhouse. Among the latter was the pro- 
verbial philosopher, and we must hope that his wisdom 
was duly appreciated by the other inmates of that 
dreary mansion. 

As the Blundell’s boys were adepts at bathing, they 
would naturally have taken particular interest in the 
caprice of one Martin, who dwelt in that centre of 
refinement, “the bottom of Westexe.” He lived alone— 
that is to say, he was never married—and for many 
years he was in the habit of bathing every morning, 
both summer and winter, in the Exe, near the weir. 
This was perhaps a laudable practice, but the strange 
thing about him was that he bathed in his clothes, and 
in the summer months, when he came out of the water, 
allowed them to dry on his body. One terribly severe 
winter the river was frozen so hard, both above and 
below the bridge, that not only was skating indulged 
in, but various sports were held and a drinking-booth 


202 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE. 


erected on the ice. Of course, poor Martin’s customary 
morning dip was no longer feasible, and by a curious 
coincidence, at the very time the ice hardened he was 
seized with an illness which ended in his death. This 
was attributed to his persistence in a practice never 
before heard of, which might have gone unpunished 
when in his youth he had been strong and robust, but 
had, as it was thought, carried him off at last. Martin 
himself took quite another view. Even when dying 
he protested to those about him that his illness and 
approaching dissolution were the result, not of his cold 
bathing and marvellous process of drying, but of the 
suspension of the custom, consequent upon the river 
being frozen. 

Those who are familiar with the circus and menagerie 
combined, its “hundred horses” and numerous artistes 
of both sexes, can have little idea of what the first 


of these entertainments consisted, when about seventy’ 


years ago it was announced by posters that “ Saunders’ 
Troupe of Equestrians” would shortly visit Tiverton. 
A field near the town would be engaged for a week, 
and a space roped in for the performers. The spectators 
stood round, no sitting accommodation being deemed 
necessary. The “riders” were two in number, a man 
and a woman, Saunders confining himself to a poor 
attempt at tight-rope dancing. The band consisted 


of two local musicians—to wit, Jack Pardon with his: 


flute and James Hussey with a clarionet. No charge 
was made for admission, but the means of carrying 
on the show were supplied by the proceeds of a shilling 
lottery, the prizes of which were few and of small 
value. After the prizes had been awarded to the 
holders of the lucky tickets, the entertainment always 


HUMOURS OF A COUNTRY TOWN 203 


concluded with a representation of John Gilpin’s famous 
ride, during which the pony, trained for the purpose, 
threw John, to the infinite amusement of the spectators, 
several times over his head. 

A decided advance was made a year or two later, 
when “ Powell’s Equestrian Troupe” was advertised to . 
appear. They were a great improvement on Saunders’, 
inasmuch as there were six or eight horses, several 
lady riders, a capital clown, and their own band of 
four musicians, besides the drum. The performances, 
which lasted three or four days, resembled those just 
described, and were held in the same field. 

Attached to these shows there were necessarily two 
or three rough fellows to look after the horses, fit 
up and rope the ring, drive the vans, etc. Amongst 
them was a half-witted man, who, being unsuited for 
such duties, was left behind and settled at Tiverton, 
where he gained a precarious livelihood as a loafer. 
While with the circus he was nicknamed “ Jack Pickaxe,” 
and by this sobriquet he continued to be known to 
the day of his death, many years later. A good part 
of his time was spent either in the workhouse or in 
the town bridewell. Preference was given by him to 
the latter, where, although the living was nothing to 
boast of, little or no hard work was exacted from him. 
This was not the case at the workhouse, where he 
Was required to break stones for the streets. As Mr. 
Pickaxe’s appearances before him became more and 
more frequent, the mayor resolved to try an experiment 
on him by padlocking his nether limbs in the stocks, 
which instrument of torture was placed immediately 
against the iron railings of -St. George’s Church, 
but was seldom applied to its intended purpose. 


a 


204. EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


Accordingly, one day our hero found himself in durance 
vile, where he remained for three or four hours, to the 
intense delight of the boys, who enjoyed the fun of 
teasing him. Naturally, Mr. Pickaxe’s feelings were 
of another description, and he was heard to observe 
that after such a degradation he could never respect 
himself. 

In country districts, at least, we occasionally see 
notices of out-door amusements, in which the attractions 
include old English sports. It is doubtful, however, 
whether such events often or ever represent a complete 
revival of the competitions that formerly took place, and 
therefore a brief note on the subject may not be 
unwelcome. Imagine, then, a field engaged for the 
purpose on an Easter or Whit Monday, and something 
like the following bill of fare provided for the public, 
more particularly for the juveniles : 

“ Foot-race for a Silk Hat.” 

“Grinning through a Horse-Collar” (no boys to 
compete). 

“Basins of Hot Gruel” (for women only, the lady 
whose basin was first emptied to be the winner). 

“Running for a smock” (once round the field; also, 
for women only). . 

The prizes for these last were about ten or fifteen 
shillings, the “smock ” being presented in addition to the 
amount of cash. 

The crowning event of the day was climbing a 
greased pole for a leg of mutton. On one occasion 
futile attempts were made to reach the tempting 
joint, and for a long time the only results were damaged 
small-clothes and loss of temper. Just as the sports 
committee began to think that the affair would end 


(ey a 


m 


HUMOURS OF A COUNTRY TOWN 205 


in a draw, a young fellow named Reeves essayed the 
task, and succeeded. Coming with his pockets full 
of gimlets—which he had borrowed from his master, 
an ironmonger—he deftly screwed in the first, and, 
resting his foot on it, screwed in two more higher 
up. Then he ascended step by step, or gimlet by 


-gimlet, screwing and climbing, till amid the cheers 


of the crowd he reached and untied the luscious joint. 
With the cord thus obtained he hung the mutton from 
his neck, and then accomplished the descent, unscrewing 
and pocketing the gimlets, while the band—a clarionet, 
an octave (or piccolo), and a drum—struck up “See 
the Conquering Hero comes!” 

It would almost resemble leaving the part of Hamlet 
out of the play, were we to omit to mention the 
donkey-race. This came off in splendid style, no less 
than half a dozen “mokes” contesting for the prize of 
a sovereign. The race was conducted on what may 
appear to some a novel principle, for, instead of the 
prize being given to the fastest animal, it was awarded 
—on one occasion, at all events—to the donkey which 
came in last. Nor was this the only peculiarity, since 
every competitor had to mount the back of a rival’s 
donkey. The object of each rider, therefore, was to 
kick and prod his neighbour’s steed, so as to cause, 
if possible, his own ass to arrive first at the winning- 
post. The state of the odds and the name of the 
winner are alike forgotten, but, in view of the importance 
of the fixture, it may be assumed that large sums 
changed hands. 

A lottery on a small scale wound up the pro- 
ceedings. “Who'll have a ticket? Only sixpence. 
All prizes and no blanks!” 


206 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE — 


Of these lotteries and some other popular amuse- 
ments of Tiverton in may be said, in the language 
of the immortal bard, that they were “more honoured — 
in the breach than in the observance.” The remark 
is applicable, for instance, to the ceremonies accompany- — 
ing that grandest festival of the year, “Oak Apple 
Day,” which, at we shall see, was as punctiliously — 
observed in the school as in the town, but in a more — 
becoming and less boisterous manner. Oak Apple — 
Day is often in or about Whitsuntide, and Whitsunday — 
itself may actually fall on the twenty-ninth of May. | 
Formerly, when the two events synchronised, it was : 
the custom, in decorating churches, to add garlands 
of oak to the floral tributes that marked the occasion. — 
Speaking of “Oak Apple Day” as such, we may 
recall that an Act of Parliament, passed in the twelfth 
year of King Charles II. and confirmed the following 
year, appointed the twenty-ninth of May “to be 
forever kept holy,” in remembrance of “ the Restitution 
of the King and Royal Family and the Restoration 
of the Government after many years’ interruption, 
which unspeakable mercies were wonderfully com- — 
. pleated” on that day. The “holy day” has, however, — 
been abolished by the same authority which created - 
it, though not a few loyalists still dona sprig of oak 
in hat or buttonhole, and in western villages the 
cottages are often decorated with boughs of oak. 

This pretty survival is only a pale reflection of the 
great doings at Tiverton—if so much, for some of 
the methods employed to celebrate the occasion were, 
as we have implied, anything but pretty. Indeed, 
they were distinctly coarse. The shops in all the 
principal streets were closed on that day at noon, and 


HUMOURS OF A COUNTRY TOWN 207 


to every door in every street was tied a branch of 
oak, testifying that the householder was loyal to the 
King, or, more precisely, to the memory of a King, 
for on a rough computation the merry monarch had 
been dead and buried for a hundred and fifty years. 
Boys, as well as big youths and spruce shopmen, wore 
a sprig of oak in a buttonhole or on their hats, which 
last were bespread for the nonce with gilt. 

About one o’clock four men in white attire, trimmed 
with parti-coloured ribbands, started from Lowman 
Green with a bough of oak formed into a bower, large 
enough to hold a chair on which a three-year-old could 
sit, the child also being gaily attired and crowned with 
flowers, so as to impersonate Charles IJ. The in- 
dispensable box for the offertory was placed beside him. 
Two of the men carried the portable bower, while the 
other two, with drawn swords, guarded the precious 
contents—boy and cash and all. The duty of the 
quartette was to sing from door to door the story of 
Oliver’s crime, the said Oliver being represented by one 
Joe Rouser, whom a certain Tatey Digger led about 
with a rope, much as the Finns do dancing bears. 
Rouser considered that he best performed his réle by 
wearing a black mask and bearing a bag of greasy 
dirt and soot suspended from his neck. It is, perhaps, 
needless to add that, on marching through the town, 
the guards had all their work cut out to keep off this 
Mephistophelian creature from soiling the garments of 
their Royal. charge. 

On such days there devolved on the boys a respon- 
sible duty, which they discharged with a proper sense 
of its importance, and to which they needed no urging. 
This was to pelt Oliver Cromwell with mud and turf, 


208 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


stones being, as was only right, strictly prohibited. 
The necessity of the early closing of shops was, however, — 
none the less apparent. As for Oliver, he seems to 
have had an enjoyable time after all, as his keeper 
allowed him rope enough to catch the boys, and when — 
he had liberally smeared their faces with the contents 
of his bag, he was politely hauled back to resume his 
assaults on the King. Our informant stated that the 
streets were always crowded whilst these merry pro- 
ceedings lasted, and the occasion was regarded as a 
public holiday much to be enjoyed. He mentioned that — 
he had seen as many as twenty lads and young men 
stooping over the gutters and washing their faces, all 
at the same time. 

The writer was born much too late to have himself 
witnessed this remarkable spectacle; and though tra- 
dition is good where one can obtain nothing better, 
it necessarily lacks something of the vividness which 
comes of actually beholding the things that one describes. 
This, and the exceptional grotesqueness of the May- 
game, will excuse the insertion of an account by one 
who came, and saw, and reported his impressions, long 
after, to the readers of the Lezsure Hour in 1853. 

“In the year 1810, and of course for many generations 
previously, the 29th of May was as complete a holiday — 
in this town as it could ever have been in any part 
of England since the first year of the Restoration. At 
early dawn the whole town was awakened by the 
furious clanging of church bells, and instead of rising 
to pursue their usual occupations, they had to turn 
out and sally forth into the neighbouring fields, woods, 
and hedgerows, where they set to work felling huge 
branches of oak from the trees, with which the locality 


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HUMOURS OF A COUNTRY TOWN 209 


abounded, and which [the branches] they brought into 
the town on their shoulders to decorate the fronts of 
their houses. Woe to the luckless or drowsy trades- 
man who by the usual time of opening shop had not 
metamorphosed his shop-front into a green bower! 
Oak-apples which had been carefully collected for many 
days previous were gilded or silvered and worn in 
the hat or button-hole by all who could procure them. 

“King Charles was personated by a rosy boy of two 
or three years of age, dressed in white and decorated 
with ribbons or flowers, with a crown on his head, 
and sitting in a compact bower made by interlacing 
oak-branches, open in front, and carried by two men 
without coats or waistcoats, their shirt-sleeves and hats 
decorated with ribbons; on each side were his body- 
guards, dressed in a similar way and armed with cudgels, 
with which they would repel the attacks of Cromwell, 
who ever and anon advanced towards the bower, 
yelling like a wild beast in search of his prey. 

“The exhibition usually halted at the houses of those 
most likely to contribute to the Royal treasury, which 


‘was for very good reasons taken charge of by his 


Majesty in person, a box being placed on the seat 
beside him for that purpose. The bower, provided 
with legs, was placed opposite the door or window, 
and the guards in broad Devonshire dialect struck up 
a song known by every schoolboy,— 


It was in the year of forty and wan, 
When the meddaws an veealds wur all in thur bloom, etc. 


“The whole town was delivered up to the tender 
mercies of the mob. It was a day on which ruffianism 


_ may be said to have:been at a premium, the greatest 


14 


210 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


ruffan being invariably selected from among a hun- 
dred or two of candidates to enact the part of Oliver 
Cromwell. 

“This historical personage made his appearance upon 
the stage about eleven o'clock in the day, by which 
time it was supposed that all unavoidable business 
might be transacted; and no female dared venture 
forth after that hour. The appearance of Oliver Crom- 
well was the general signal for flight wherever he came. 
Imagine a brawny six-foot man, his face begrimed 
all over with a mixture of lamp-black and oil, and 
surmounted by a prodigious shock of hair dripping 
with grease, the lank locks of which hung dangling 
over his savage eyes; his body, like that of a prize- 
fighter, sometimes naked to the waist, round which 
was tied a bag containing several pounds of the mixture 
with which his own skin, so far as it was visible, was 
anointed. This was Oliver Cromwell, and his mission 
was to catch hold of anybody and everybody that 
he could overtake, and by forcing their heads into 
his capacious bag, make them free of the common- 
wealth if they refused to come down with a ransom, 
the amount of which he fixed at his own discretion, 
according to the circumstances of his captive. 

“ As a fleet and powerful fellow was invariably chosen 
to play Oliver, it was of course necessary to take 
measures to prevent him from becoming, in the ex- 
citement of the chase, too indiscriminate in the bestowal 
of his favours. As he was pelted by the mob, and 
plentifully swilled with water, of which there are run- 
ning streams in most of the streets, it is no wonder 
that he should lose his temper, and become really 
savage, after having played the tyrant and the target 


HUMOURS OF A COUNTRY TOWN 211 


for a few hours. By way of restraint, therefore, he 
was tied round the waist with a stout rope about fifty 
yards long, the end of which was in charge of his 
Cabinet Council, consisting of half a dozen congenial 
spirits, who probably shared his profits, and who, if 
they chose, could moderate his pace or pull him suddenly 
up when in pursuit of unlawful prey—such, for instance, 
as a parish doctor on a visit to a patient, or a magistrate 
amusing himself with a sight of the popular sport. 
That they were not very particular in these exceptional 
cases may be gathered from the fact that we once 
saw the Reverend Caleb Colton, the author of Lacon 
and The Sampford Ghost, who was a clergyman of 
Tiverton and perfectly well known to every individual 
in the town, made captive by Oliver. The reverend 
gentleman suffered hideously from the grasp of the 
Protector, and only escaped a dive into the grease-bag 
by the prompt payment of a guinea. 

“Tt is not easy to imagine all the circumstances 
presented by this unique and disgraceful spectacle ; 
the uproar and tumult which swarmed round Oliver 
wherever he went—the panic which seized the pursuing 
multitude when he turned and pursued them—the insane 
yells and cries of encouragement when he had caught 
some unlucky or obnoxious individual—and, above 
all, the hideous appearance of the wretch himself, when 
worn out with the toils of his disgusting occupation, 
and savage with the jeers and injuries of the mob. 
Between the green boughs which covered every house 
front, the windows were filled with spectators, among 
whom women and children looked on in safety upon 
a spectacle little calculated to inculcate the sociai or 
domestic virtues. 


212 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


“In our time Oliver held undisputed possession of 
the town until five o'clock in the afternoon, when 
his reign was at an end, and he was led off to retire- 
ment to count and enjoy, if he could, the fruits of 
his labours. After he disappeared the more respect- 
able inhabitants were at liberty to come forth from. 
their dwellings. 

“On the transportation of Rouser, who had been 
the rough representative of Cromwell for so many 
years, the whole drama languished. Some feeble at- 
tempts were made to revive it, but the taste of the 
populace for such. sports was on the decline; and 
a few indiscreet applications of ‘smut’ brought magis- 
terial authority to bear upon ‘Old Oliver,’ who, together 
with the Royal Charles, has altogether disappeared © 
from these realms. 

“It may seem surprising at the first glance that 
a custom so silly and puerile in its origin, and so 
hateful and immoral in its operation, should have 
survived in all its completeness through five or six 
generations, and lasted until our own day, but the 
force of precedent will keep alive even greater abuses.” 

Such, then, were the good old days that our fore- 
bears mention regretfully, comparing them with these 
degenerate times when men are fenced about with 
rules of law and order. What a pity that an over- 
zealous justice of the peace should have exerted his 
authority for the purpose of getting this public holiday 
suppressed ! 


CHAPTER X 
MORE ABOUT TIVERTON 


MONG the quaint customs that formerly prevailed 
in the country was the Christmas play. At 
Tiverton the “mumming chaps,” who eked out their 
number with “Blue” boys, made the round of the 
great houses in the town and neighbourhood, and, when 
that had been completed, visited the more important 
farms. Everywhere they were received with favour, had 
plenty to eat and drink, and when they took their 
departure their somewhat crude performances were 
rewarded with proper gratuities. Mrs. Ewing’s Peace 
Egg (published by the S.P.C.K.) is composed of a 
hash of several traditional Christmas plays—TZhe Peace 
Egg, The Wassail Cup, Alexander the Great, A Mock 
Play, and The Silverton Mummers Play, all of which 
appear to have contained common elements, otherwise 
such a process were much to be deplored. Even as it 
is we would rather have had the separate versions than 
the resultant “compilation.” We have never seen the 
Silverton play, and know nothing more of it than we 
gathered from Mrs. Ewing’s introduction. As Silverton 
is only seven miles distant from Tiverton, and reckoned 
well within its zone, we may be permitted to quote 
her remarks on the subject : 


213 


214 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


“The Silverton version is an extreme example of 
the continuous development of these unwritten dramas. 
Generation after generation, the most incongruous char- 
acters have been added. In some cases this is very 
striking testimony to the strength of rural sympathy 
with the great deeds and heroes of the time, as well as 
to native talent for dramatic composition. 

“Wellington and Wolfe almost eclipsed St. George in 
some parts of England, and the sea-heroes are naturally 
popular in Devonshire. The death of Nelson in the 
Silverton play has fine dramatic touches. Though he 
‘has but one arm and a good one too, he essays to 
fight—whether Tippo Sahib or St. George is not made 
clear. He falls, and St. George calls for the Doctor 
in the usual words. The Doctor ends his peculiar 
harangue with ‘ Britons! our Nelson is dead.’ To which 
a voice, which seems to play the part of Greek chorus, 
responds—‘ But he is not with the dead, but in the arms 
of the living God!’ Then, enter Collingwood— 


Collingwood : Here comes I, bold Collingwood, 
Who fought the French and boldly stood ; 
And now the life of that bold Briton’s gone, 
[ll put the crown of victory on,—- 


with which ‘he takes the crown off Nelson’s head and 
puts it on his own.’” 

It has been our good fortune to obtain temporary 
possession of a manuscript copy of an old Tiverton play, 
the subject being AJlerander and the King of Egypt. 
The age of the MS., which can be roughly dated, 
proves it to have been written about the time when the 
late Archbishop was a schoolboy at Tiverton, at which 
period these Christmas plays were still in their zenith. 


: 
| 


MORE ABOUT TIVERTON 215 


We propose to print it 7 extenso—a proceeding for 
which, in a volume like the present, no excuse is needed, 
but it may be stated that considerable difficulty is ex- 
perienced in getting hold of connected versions of these 
popular effusions. 


ALEXANDER AND THE KING OF EGYPT 
ACT ft. 


Scene I, 
Enter ALEXANDER, 


SILENCE, brave gentlemen, if you will give an eye, 
Alexander is my name, I'll sing a tragedy. 

A ramble here I took, the country for to see; 
Three actors I have brought so far from Italy. 

The first I do present—he is a noble king; 

He’s just come from the wars, good tidings he doth bring. 
The next that doth come in he is a doctor good, 
Had it not been for him, I’d surely lost my blood. 
Old Dives is the next, a miser you may see, 

Who by lending of his gold is come to poverty. 

So, gentlemen, you see, our actors will go round, 
Stand off a little while, more pastime will be found. 


Scene II. 
Enter ACTORS. 


Room, room, brave gallants, give us room to sport, 
For in this room we wish for to resort; 

For, remember, good sirs, this is Christmas time. 
The time to cut up goose-pies now doth appear, 
So we are come to act our merry Christmas here. 
At the sound of the trump and beat of the drum, 
Make room, brave gentlemen, and let our actors come. 
We are the merry actors that traverse the street, 
We are the merry actors that fight for our meat, 
We are the merry actors that show pleasant play; 
Step in, thou King of Egypt, and clear the way. 


216 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


King of Egypt: 1 am the King of Egypt, as plainly doth appear, 
And Prince George, he is my only son and heir, 
Step in, therefore, my son, and act thy part with me, 
And show forth thy fame before the company. 
Prince George: 1 am Prince George, a champion brave and bold, 
For with my spear I’ve won three crowns of gold ; 
*Twas I that brought the dragon to the slaughter, 
And I that gained the Egyptian monarch’s daughter. 
In Egypt’s field I prisoner long was kept, 
But by my valour I from them escap’d. 
I sounded loud at the gate of a divine, 
And out came a giant of no good design ; 
He gave me a blow which almost struck me dead, 
But I up with my sword and cut off my head. 
Alexander: Hold, slacker, hold! pray, do not be so hot, 
For in this spot thou know’st not whom thou’st got; 
Tis I that’s to hash thee, and smash thee, as small as flies, 
And send thee to Satan to make mince pies. 
Mince pies hot, mince pies cold, 
I'll send thee to Satan ere thouw’rt three days old. 
But hold, Prince George, before you go away, 
Either you or I must die this bloody day; 
Some mortal wounds thou shalt receive by me, 
So let us fight it out most manfully. 


ACT II. 


ScENngE I. 


ALEXANDER a”d PRINCE GEorGE fight. The latter is wounded 
and falls. 


King of Egypt: Curst Christian, what is this that thou hast done? 
Thou hast ruin’d me by killing my best son. 
Alex; He gave me a challenge, why should I him deny? 
How high he was, but see, how low he lies! 
K. of Egypt: O Sambo, Sambo, help me now, 
For I was never more in need 
For thee to stand with sword in hand, 
And to fight at my command. 
Doctor: Yes, my liege, 1 will thee obey, 
And, by my sword, I hope to win the day. 


: 


. 


Sen 


MORE ABOUT TIVERTON 217 


Yonder stands he, who has kill’d my master’s son, 
And has his ruin thoughtlessly begun. 
I'll try if he be sprung from Royal blood 
And through his body make an ocean flood. 
Gentlemen, you see my sword’s point is broke, 
Or else I’d run it through that villain’s throat. 
K. of Egypt: is there never a doctor to be found, 
That can cure my son of his deadly wound? 
Doctor : Yes, there is a doctor to be found, 
That can cure your son of his deadly wound. 
K. of Egypt: What diseases can he cure ? 
Doctor : 1 can cure the itch, the palsy and gout, 
If the Devil’s in him, I'll pull him out. 
In fact, there is nothing but what I can master 
And [ll cure your brave son’s fatal disaster. 


ScENE II. 
PRINCE GEORGE a7ises, 


Prince George: O horrible! terrible! The like was never seen— 
A man drove out of seven senses into fifteen, 
And out of fifteen into fourscore ; 
O horrible! terrible! the like was ne’er before. 
Alexander : Thou silly ass, that liv’st on grass, 
Dost thou abuse a stranger ? 
I live in hopes to buy new ropes, 
And tie thy nose to a manger. 
P. George: Sir, unto you I bend. 
Alex. : Stand off, thou slave! I think thee not my friend. 
P. George: A Slave! sir, that’s for me by far too base a name. 
That word deserves to stab thine honour’s fame. 
Alex,: To be stab’d, sir, is least of all my care. 
Appoint your time and place—I’ll meet you there. 
P. George: V\l cross the water at the hour of five. 
Alex.: Vll meet you there, sir, if I be alive. 
P. George: But stop, sir, Vl wish you a wife both lusty and 
young ; 
Can talk Dutch, French, and the Italian tongue. 
Alex.: Yl have none such, 
P. George: Why, don’t you love learning ? 


218 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


Alex, : Yes, I love my learning as I love my life, 

I love a learned scholar, but not a learned wife. 

Stand off, thou dirty dog, or by my sword thou'lt die, 

Ill make thy body full of holes, and cause thy buttons to fly. 
K. of Egypt: Sir, to express thy beauty Pm not able, 

For thy face shines like the very kitchen table, 

Thy teeth are as white as the charcoal ‘neath the grate, 

Stand off, or else you'll feel this sword upon your poor bare pate. 
Alex, : Stand off, thou dirty dog, or by my sword thou'lt die, 

I'll make thy body full of holes, and cause thy buttons to fly. 


ScENE III. 
The Kine or Ecypt fights and is killed. 
Enter PRINCE GEORGE. 


P. George: Oh, what is here? Oh, what is to be done ? 
Our King is slain, the crown is likewise gone. 
Take up his body, bear it hence away, 
For in this place no longer shall it stay. 


THE CONCLUSION. 


Bouncer Buckler, velvet’s dear, 

And Christmas comes but once a year, 

Though when it comes it brings good cheer. 

But farewell, Christmas, once a year; 

Farewell, farewell, adieu, friendship and unity, 

I hope we have made sport, and pleased the company. 
But, gentlemen, you see, we're but actors four; 

We've done our best, and the best can do no more. 


Besides these amateur exhibitions Tiverton had its 
regular theatre, which was a popular institution and 
patronised by the townspeople both small and great. 
We were recently informed that a Mrs. Pell, the 
wife or widow of Colonel Pell, was in the habit of 
attending every night, until her presence in the stalls 
began to be looked upon as part of the nature of 


aa 


MORE ABOUT TIVERTON 219 


things. Moreover, there resided at “ Rix,” a country- 
house in the parish, one Major Johnson, an eccentric 
gentleman, whose society was much courted by persons 
of a convivial disposition, and whose taste and early 
habits led him to evince a great fondness for the 
drama. Consequently, on each visit of Mr. Davis 
and his company, the majors box at the theatre 
found him invariably present. His manners and 
brogue sufficiently proclaimed his nationality, and he 
often consented to appear as a singer of Irish comic 
ballads in character. The announcement on the bills 
that “after the first piece Major Johnson will kindly 
sing a comic song,” always helped to fill the house, 
and when, after an encore, he gave a second song, 
the applause, from the gallery especially, was tremend- 
ous. When, for instance, he chose an Irish love-song, 
beginning— 

Och, Judy, dear crathur, she’s won all my soul, 

The sight of her eyes put my heart in a filliloo, 


he brought down the house. 

A great feature in the management was the engage- 
ment for a night or two of a “star” actor or actress 
from one of the London theatres. During the close 
season these were generally willing to accept engage- 
ments on easy terms, thus adding materially to their 
income. On one occasion a Miss Love, of Covent 
Garden fame, was thus introduced as a singer and 
danseuse, and seldom had Tiverton witnessed such 
dancing, or heard such delightful melody as she dis- 
coursed. Unfortunately, this siren had one failing— 
too great an attachment to stimulants. Unless care- 
fully watched by a friend, who always accompanied 


220 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


her in the provinces, she would indulge this weakness 
while in her dressing-room, previous to being called 


on. On the occasion of her Tiverton engagement — 


she had executed a dance styled on the bills a “Pas 
de Trois and Cressy Waltz” in a manner that en- 


tranced her audience, and had retired below to her 


dressing-room, where she refreshed herself after her 
great exertions with a large quantity of brandy. When 
she was called up for a vocal effort she walked 
with difficulty, but as soon as the band had played 
a few bars, she commenced her song the burden of 
which was an indictment against the male sex for 
their reluctance to “pop the question.” In each verse 


she reproached the marriageable youth for their neglect . 


of this duty, and stamping her dainty foot on the stage, 
while she pointed with her arm to the boxes, would 
say or sing, “Why don’t the men propose?” During 
the song she had to keep moving a step or two to 
the right and the left, or backwards, for in her state 
to stand still was difficult. Her task for the night 
being thus ended, her sedan chair took her to her 
lodgings. We must not forget that one infatuated 
youth took the hint and actually went the length of 
proposing, but, being ineligible from Miss Love’s pale 
of view, was summarily rejected. 

At this time the manager was fortunate in having 
an excellent “villain.” In all provincial and “ strolling” 
companies the actor who went by this name was an 
important, and indeed indispensable, element, for he 
had to personate all the disreputable characters from 
tyrant kings to bandits and murderers. He was required 
to be an adept in the use of the sword and, when 
slain, to fall gracefully, so as not to allow his legs to 


— ———— 


MORE ABOUT TIVERTON 221 


appear when the curtain was rung down. Such an 
one was Mr. Kent, who possessed the further ad- 
vantages of a dark, forbidding countenance, grisly 
black hair and beard, and the voice of a Stentor. 
It was really fetching, we are told, to see him at- 
tempt to carry off the heroine. Just at the right 
moment he was confronted by her lover, the young 
officer, who shouted “Hold, villain—draw!” and 
the next moment ran him beautifully through the 
body. 

An old Tiverton resident, from whom we have 
obtained these particulars, once had an opportunity 
of seeing this “villain” in a part for which he was 
pre-eminently fitted—viz., that of Mephistopheles in 
the play of Faustus. From time to time, in his 
dilemmas, the deluded victim of Satanic influence 
would shout the name of his “familiar,’ when in an 
instant Mephistopheles would come to his side as 
his guide, philosopher, and friend. By way of adding 
to the impressiveness of the piece, thunder and lightning 
would be produced—the former by means of large 
sheets of iron held by the corners behind the scenes 
and violently shaken, and the latter by a mixture of 
gunpowder and saltpetre being blown through a long 
tube like a coach-guard’s horn against a light. The 
position of the apparatus was at the side of the stage, 
and nothing could be seen but the flash, which last was 
extremely vivid, the tube being pointed towards the 
actors. 

Among the members of the company at one time 


were a Mr. and Mrs. Wingrove, who were said to have 


PPe-= "9 


taken to the stage not from necessity, but by choice, 
having previously occupied a good position in society. 


222 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


Both would appear in comedy or farce, but their forte — 


was singing, and they gave nightly performances, some- 
times as soloists, and occasionally in a duet. One of 
these duets—a special favourite with the audience, who 
insisted on “encore verses”—was named “ Mr. and Mrs. 
John Prevo.” It consisted of a mimic lovers’ quarrel, 
in which each of the parties accused the other of 
naughty tricks, and which ended in a reconciliation and 
the lady falling into her husband’s arms. The method 
of the duet was simple—first the gentleman sang a 
verse hinting a fault, and his angry spouse retorted in 
the next. She was especially indignant when in one 
of the verses her husband thus taunted her. 


With that gossip, Mrs. Jones, 
How you rattle o’er the stones! 
Why, you don’t spare my horses, Mrs. John Prevo! 


During the song, roars of laughter were caused by the 
lady weeping so copiously as to require a dry handker- 
chief. This she supplied from her pocket; at the same 
time she took the one ostensibly tear-wetted to the foot- 
lights, and deliberately wrung it over the head of the 
old bass-viol player. Then spreading it on the back of 
a chair, she would go on with her alternate accusation 
and defence. 

With regard to solos there lies before us a manu- 
script copy of the words, but not the music, of “ Mr. 
Paul Pry’s Song,” intended to have been sung on New 
Year’s Eve. It is as follows: 


(Pryingly) 1 hope I don’t intrude 

(Fearfully) 1 thought I heard a cough. 
(Apologetically) 1 hope I am not rude. 
(Confidentially) 1 say—the year’s going of. 


NS 


ee 


MORE ABOUT TIVERTON 223 


(nquisitively) Where can he be going to? 

(Ruminatively) It’s very odd !—it’s serious / 
(Self-satisfactively) 'm rather knowing too! 
- (nsinuatively) But isn’t it mysterious ? 


(Comfortably) ’Twas better than the other— 
(informingly) The one that went before ; 
(Consolingly) But then there'll be axother, 
(Delighiedly) Aud that’s one comfort more. 


(Alarmedly) Vm half afraid he’s gone / 
(Kindlily) Must part with the old fellow ? 
(Hastily) Excuse me—I must run—(e27#) 
(Returns) Forgot my umbrella. 


(Determinedly) Vll watch the new one though, 

(Circumspectly) And see what hell be at—(exit) 
(Returns) Beg pardon—didn’t bow (dows ; exit) 
(Returns) Beg pardon—left my hat. 


(Lingeringly) It’s always the wish of Paul 
(Seriously) To be guite correct and right; 

(Respectfully) Ladies and gentlemen all— 

(Retreatingly) 1 wish you a very good-night 


(Recollectively) And, ladies and gentlemen all, 
(nterjectively) You laugh so much, I declare— 
(Vexedly) Ym not Mr. Liston!—I’m Paul! 
(Zastly) I wish you a Happy New Year! 
(Exit finally). 


Not far from the theatre was the old post-office, 
which was also not without an element of interest. 
Seventy years ago, in the coaching days, the postage 
of a letter from Bristol was eightpence. The four-horse 
mail-coach, plying eastward and westward daily on the 
country road, stopped to change horses at the Halfway 

_ House, Willand, so named because it was equidistant 
from Exeter and Taunton. To this inn the mail-bags 
were brought out from Tiverton, and there others were 


224 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE — 


received for the town. The postman was armed and 
rode on a good saddle-horse. Twice a day he repaired 
to the old post-office in St. Peter Street, and receiving - 
the leathern bags from the postmaster or postmistress, 
threw them across the saddle. He also carried two 
pouches, one containing a large brass-barrelled pistol, and 
the other a brass horn, in length about three feet. 
With the first instrument he defied all comers, and with 
the latter he announced his return from the time he — 
reached Lowman Bridge until he arrived at the post- — 
office. 

The beautiful parish church, dedicated to St. Peter, 
has undergone many alterations, not all of them im- 
provements, but the sixteenth century porch and chapel, 
erected by John Greenway, a Tiverton merchant, and 
literally covered with all manner of quaint symbols, 
remain externally untouched, except, alas! by the rude 
hand of Time. As regards the interior, the fine old 
screen, which extended right across the church im- 
mediately in front of the chancel and served as a 
gallery for the “ Blue” boys and girls, has vanished, as 
has also the dismal “ Latin School Gallery,” built over 
the main entrance at the west end of the south aisle, 
where many generations of Blundellians were instructed, 
Sunday after Sunday, in the practice of piety. There 
is—or was until lately—at Holcombe Court a magnifi- 
cent relic of old St. Peter’s, on which young Frederick 
Temple and his contemporaries must often have gazed 
with wonder and admiration—viz.,a huge candelabrum 
which for a very long period adorned the middle aisle, 
and whose elaborate design earned for the church, then 
in a somewhat ruinous condition, a wide reputation in the 
west. The gift of Mr. Nathaniel Thorne, churchwarden 


MORE ABOUT TIVERTON 225 


in 1707, who appears to have spared no expense 
on it, the candelabrum was suspended from a large 
gilt rose, three feet in diameter, a ring being inserted 
in the centre. In the ornamental ironwork, a few feet 
below, was a brass halo, from which projected brass 
rods of various lengths and shapes, the gilt tips being 
contorted most curiously. Farther down was a great 
gilt diadem, the inside of which presented the appear- 
ance of the customary purple velvet lining. Beneath 
this were the letters “G. R.,” each about three feet 
across, and evidently the initials of Queen Anne’s 
successor and the lawful owner of Britain’s diadem. 
Farther down yet was a large silver-gilt dove, with an 
olive-branch in her mouth; and the next insignia, in 
order of descent, consisted of a wreath representing the 
rose, thistle and shamrock intertwined, the colours 
being thrown out in relief by the purple decoration 
within. The candelabrum proper was composed of four 
tiers of brass candlesticks, each projecting beyond the 
next above, and numbering ten, twenty, thirty, forty 
receptacles for candles. The lowest rank of brass rods 
must have extended two or three feet over each side of 
the middle aisle as it is now. All the spaces between 
the branch rods were filled with brasswork in imitation 


of rosettes, the bottom rank being larger than the top. 


The lowest pendant was a great brass sphere bearing 
the date of the presentation and the names of the 
then rectors and churchwardens. 

Yes, rectors—plural, for the spiritual oversight of 
Tiverton was vested in the incumbents of four livings, 
whose duties consisted in little more than delivering 
four sermons in as many weeks, or, in other words 
in getting through a fortnight’s work in a month 

15 


226 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


The rectors—one, however, was a “ perpetual curate”— 


sometimes deemed even this too great a strain on 
their constitutions, and availed themselves of the 
services of one or other of the masters of Blundell’s 
School. The Rev. Dr. Boulton, for instance, was 
frequently applied to, and, when asked, readily con- 
sented to act as /ocum tenens for a brother-clergyman. 

Once upon a time four parsons preached in succession 
from St. Peter’s pulpit, and the initials of their surnames, 
Gilbert, Williams, Spurway, and Pye, were read as an 
instruction to “ go when Spurway, preaches.” Spurway, 
who was rector of “Pitt Portion” from 1821 to 1874, 
sometimes startled his congregation by his very pointed 
sermons. One Sunday his subject was dishonesty in 
business, and the next morning a tradesman, who 
had amassed a small fortune, called on him and com- 
plained of being preached at. Spurway’s response 
was to the effect that if the cap fitted his parishioner 
had better wear it. 

A gentleman whom Temple may have known very 
well—he was an uncle of one of his friends—was some- 
what deaf, an infirmity which led him to desire a seat 


near the reading desk. His wife suggested to an old 


woman that, in return for a consideration, she should 
relinquish a seat in the old gentleman’s favour, when 


she received the unexpected reply, “No, not 1; my — 
soul’s so dear to me as ever Squire’s is to he. I bain’t — 


gwain to gie up my seat.” 


We may add that one of Dr. Temple’s last acts as — 


Bishop of Exeter was to secure the passage of a bill 


abolishing the system of four independent, and yet 


not independent, rectors, whose main preoccupation — 


was to avoid friction. The new arrangements were 


By 
Nia? 


MORE ABOUT TIVERTON 227 


based on the principle Divide et impera, and, we believe, 


have worked well from a pastoral point of view, though 


the parishes in possession of the less gifted orators 
may perhaps sigh for the ancient régzme, when the 
local Chrysostom rotated from sanctuary to sanctuary, 
and gratified the stationary pew-holders with his well- 
turned periods and eloquent delivery. 

In 1835 Tiverton acquired as its member of 
Parliament Lord Palmerston, even then a politician 
and statesman of the greatest eminence, and destined, 
ere death terminated the connection thirty years later, 
to attain the high position of Prime Minister. Although 
an Irishman, he is remembered as a typical exponent 
of what we will venture to call the John Bull style 
of diplomacy, and in his last days was revered by 
all parties as a true patriot, who had raised England 
to the pinnacle of glory. In Temple’s youth Palmerston 
was regarded, very differently, as a dangerous oppor- 
tunist, who had turned Whig and helped to pass the 
Reform Bill, the Poor Law, and other uncalled-for and 
un-Christian measures ; and although in 1835 he had 
slipped into the representation of Tiverton unopposed, 
it was felt by the faithful Tories that they could not, 
without injury to their reputation, allow this performance 
to be repeated, and at the general election of 1837 
Lord Palmerston had to fight for his seat. Now the 
Duke of Wellington, Sir Robert Peel, and others of 
the Tory leaders had been guilty, equally with Lord 
Palmerston, of supporting the new workhouse legislation 
—which was awkward. Nevertheless, the old-fashioned 
Conservatives—or may they not have been the smart 
party-agents ?—deemed this their best card, which they 
played accordingly. Here is one of their bills, which 


228 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


the Blundellians of the day may have perused with 
sympathetic interest. 


STOP AND READ 


HONEST POVERTY 


Under a Whig Administration is become a sin; 
It parts MAN and WIFE, PARENTS and CHILDREN, 
With a lingering Starvation and Perpetual 
Imprisonment, 

READ YOUR WEEK’S FARE!!! 

Six Pounds, Two Ounces of Bread, 
Fifteen Ounces of Butcher's Meat, 

Seven Pounds of Potatoes, 
Ten Ounces of Pudding, 
N.B.—The Pudding made with PORK WATER 7” some Unions!!! 
Eight Pints azd a Quarter of Soup. 
Five Pints of Broth, 
Ten Pints and a Half of GRUEL!!! 
Now, you able-bodied Men, go to the Peer, 
and thank his Lordship for his extraordinary 
attention to your Comforts!!! 


An immense quantity of this sort of literature was 
circulated, and amongst the pamphleteers was a certain 
“ Junius,” who was suspected to be none other than Dr. 
Anthony Boulton. Whether the suspicion was just we 
cannot say, but one of “ Junius’s” productions bears 
all the marks of having been written by a clergyman. 
For instance, in speaking of the “aged, sick and un- 
fortunate poor,” he complains that they have been 
“deprived of the religious right of worshipping God in 
the churches of their forefathers,” and declares that 


: 
: 


i 


: 


MORE ABOUT TIVERTON 229 


under the Act “the face of the poor is wickedly ground 
down,” which may be described perhaps as an argument 
from Scripture. Whatever the truth may have been, 
the Reformers got it into their heads that Dr. Boulton 
was the man, and they retaliated as only heated poli- 
ticians do or can, taunting him with his weak sight, 
which compelled him to wear goggles, and calling him 
“the green-eyed monster.” Nor, of course, did they 
miss the opportunity afforded by Dr. Boulton’s pro- 
fessional duties, and especially the dreaded function 
wherein he flourished his birch and administered to 
the trembling culprit pezne forte et dure. To this elegant 
satire, as we shall see, the customs of the school lent 
not less than ordinary point. 

Although Palmerston was received on this and 
subsequent occasions with anything but cordiality by 
the authorities, his relations with the school afterwards 
improved, and whenever his lordship visited the town 
the boys had a holiday. Needless to say, they loved 
him for that. Mr. Clement Waldron, some years ago, 
referred to a time in his schooldays when for some 
delinquency he was condemned to an imposition, and 
had to write a set of Latin verses on Andromeda. Now 
Waldron hated Andromeda and Perseus and everything 
belonging to them, because, though it might seem easy, 
he could not get Andromeda into a hexameter verse. 
He was in this dilemma when two gentlemen in white 
beaver hats came into the school, and asked what he 
was trying to do. He explained, and one of them 
said to the other, “ Acland, write the boy’s verses.” 
The gentleman addressed took paper and pencil, and 
obligingly wrote the verses. The two visitors were 
Lord Palmerston and Sir Thomas Acland, who, having 


230 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


taken a “double first” at Oxford, was no doubt better — 
able to assist than his distinguished friend. ; 

Then there is the evidence of the MS. Register, 
which shows that Palmerston had every desire to be 
on good terms with his political opponents, as the 
masters invariably were. The evidence consists of a 
letter and an old “dinner ticket.” Inserted in the 
register are two of these tickets, one of which bears the 
inscription : “This engraving by Hogarth was presented 
by the Rev. W. Toms, of South Molton, to the Rev. 
Aldersey Dicken, Master of the School, and by him 
fixed in this book, Jan. 19th, 1825.” The other, which 
is inscribed “Ticket for School Feast 1840,” differs 
slightly from its companion, in that it displays, in 
addition to Hogarth’s name, that of “ T. Cook,” the 
engraver, and the imprint, “ Published by Longman, 
Hurst, Rees, and Orme, Oct. Ist, 1809.” With the 
latter example is inserted the following letter from Lord 
Palmerston to Francis Hole, Esq. 


Abril 8th, 1859. 
My Dear HOL_e, 

I send you the enclosed as suggested by the writer of the 
note. Perhaps you will give the Ticket to the Master of the 
School. 

Yours sincerely — 
PALMERSTON, 


These incidents betoken a peaceful, and even friendly, 
state of things, but in Temple’s time matters, as we 
have seen, were far otherwise. Echoes of the strife 
out of doors penetrated into the halls of learning, and 
the masters were betrayed into little abuses of their 
authority. Temple himself testified to their unfairness. 
“T can remember,” he said, “in the history of Blundell’s 


MORE ABOUT TIVERTON 231 


School how in former days we took our part, like boys, 
in the politics of the time. Some of us were Tories and 
some Liberals, as the case might be. I can remember 
when feelings were rather hot upon the matter, and 
sometimes things occurred which would not be so 
willingly allowed now. I can remember—being, as I 
was, a very hot Tory—that my master, a certain Mr. 
Evans, put me at the head of my class, because I was 
a Tory. Well, I then thought this was an exceedingly 
righteous act on his part, whatever I feel about it now. 
But although I remember a great difference of opinion 
in those days, I do not remember any time at which 
Blundellians would not join in expression of the most 
thorough loyalty to the Queen of this country.” 


CHAPTER XI 


THE REIGN OF “SAS” 


HEN Temple was entered at Blundell’s his 
teachers were principally two—Dr. Dicken, the 
upper master, who had succeeded the terrible Richards 
in 1823, and Dr. Boulton, the lower master. The 
former, who bore the very unusual Christian name of 
Aldersey, was the eldest son of a clergyman holding 
the neighbouring living of Witheridge, and educated 
at Blundell’s, where he obtained one of the Sidney 
Sussex exhibitions. At Cambridge he became fellow 
and tutor of Peterhouse, and was the author of the 
Seatonian prize poem in 1818. As he had already 
won the speaking medal and the medal for verse 
composition at Blundell’s, it is fair to assume that in 
achieving this distinction the training he had received 
in his old school was of especial advantage to him; 
and that, when he returned as headmaster, it was with 
a strengthened belief in the value of the traditions in 
which he had been steeped. 

Dr. Dicken, however, was possessed by no narrow 
spirit of academic conservatism ; and, in the course 
of his headmastership, made himself responsible for 
an innovation which was certainly not without effect 
on Temple’s career. We allude to his introduction 


232 


J 


of mathematics as a subject of study in the school. 
This was a fortunate step, for otherwise it is cer- 
tain Temple would never have gained his double 
first. 

It is recorded of Dr. Dicken that he was most patient 
and encouraging in his treatment of pupils less pro- 
mising than their fellows. This feature in his character 
was highly honourable to him, but does not appear 
to have much bearing on our immediate subject, as 
Temple raced through the lower school in about 
half a year. His friend, Tom Clarke, was not in such 
a hurry. “I was never much good at work,” he says. 
“Why, there was a visiting master, who came once a 
week to teach mathematics. Every week I showed 
him one sum. It was always the same—a rule of three, 
which I knew by heart.” 

Possessing as he did so many good qualities, one 
is not surprised that Dr. Dicken won golden opinions. 
The following statement, taken from a Devonshire 
paper published on July 6th, 1833; will show what 
was thought of him. “It is acknowledged on all 
hands that an instructor more amiable or kind-hearted, 
united with such extensive and varied learning and 
indefatigable research, has never presided over this noble 
establishment.” 

However, Temple was not to enjoy the benefit of 
his headship long. Having taken his D.D. in 1831, 
he was presented by his college to the rectory of 
Norton, Suffolk, and left Tiverton at Midsummer, 1834, 
in order to devote himself to his pastoral duties. 
Before he finally quitted the neighbourhood, his 
old pupils subscribed together and presented him 
with a piece of plate bearing the following inscrip- 


THE REIGN OF “SAS” 233 


234 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE — 


tion, surmounted by Dr. Dicken’s coat-of-arms and 
motto : 


ALDERSEY DICKEN, S. T. P. 
HOC 
UBI PLURIMA DEBENTUR MUNUSCULUM 

QUODQUE INDICET QUAM DECLARET 
SUMMA EJUS IN SE MERITA 
AFFERENDUM CONSENSERUNT 

DISCIPULI. 
A.D. M,DCCC,XXXIV. 


On what was long esteemed a memorable day, the 
donors and others assembled on the school green, and 
the senior head boy, to whose lot it fell to make the 
presentation, was the Rev. Edward Arthur Dayman, 
of whom we shall hear again. Amongst the spectators 
was the new headmaster, the Rev. Henry Sanders. 
.Dr. Dicken was not often seen in Tiverton after this, 
but it is evident from the congratulations which he 
always sent to the Old Boys at their annual gatherings 
that the school had ever a warm place in his affections. 
He died at Bournemouth in January, 1879, at the age 
of eighty-four. 

We remarked above that Dr. Dicken was, naturally, 
steeped in the traditions of the school; and although 
he has left behind the reputation of being not only 
a man of learning, but an amiable Christian gentleman, 
it is worthy of note that he upheld, or at any rate, 
did not seek to suppress, one of the most distinctive 
and firmly rooted customs of the place—namely, the 
habit the boys had of settling their differences in 
the ring. Mr. Clarke affirms that he has often seen 
Dr. Dicken pass when a fight was in progress, and 


THE REIGN OF “SAS” 235 


look away in order that he might seem not to have 
observed it. 

The lower master, Dr. Boulton, was gifted with a 
similar short-sightedness, so that when he met a boy 
out of bounds he appeared not to notice him. In his 
case, however, as he had some trouble with his eyes, 
the lack of discernment may have been accidental. 
The Doctor was irreverently but somewhat lovingly 
termed by the boys of that day “Tony Boulton.” 
An older man than Dicken, he was a martyr to the 
gout, and this affliction forced on him an occasional 
retirement from duty. As soon as he became con- 
valescent his class was conducted into his dining-room, 
where the admiration of the boys was excited by a 
set of magnificent chessmen, which were arranged on 
the sideboard. Dr. Boulton was the author of a queer 
little cardboard catechism containing questions and 
answers (¢.g., “ Who was Tubal Cain? ”), and in use at 
“the block.” 

The master with whom Temple had most to do at 
Blundell’s, and with whom also he was clesely associated 
in after life. was the Rev. Henry Sanders, who, he 
said, possessed the wonderful gift of reaching one’s 
- very soul. Mr. Sanders was educated at Christ Church, 
Oxford, and amongst his college acquaintances was the 
“good” Earl of Devon, afterwards chairman of the 
governors of Blundell’s School. He was a most amiable 
man, and his memory is cherished not only on account 
of his connection with the great Archbishop, but quite 
as much for his personal qualities, which gained him 
the esteem of his brother-clergy and many lay friends. 

Canon Dayman, an Old Blundellian, but not a pupil 
of Sanders, in the course of a sermon on St. Peter’s 


236 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


day, 1888, referred to him in the following terms: 
“T had many opportunities of seeing and knowing him, 
and he always impressed me with the belief that he 
was a man of energetic character with a strong sense 
of duty and a very kind heart. Of this last quality 


I will venture to give an instance. Some years ago 


he told me that a common friend of ours was danger- 
ously ill, and I found he had been extremely kind 
to him, visited him, and done all that could be done 
for him until his death. Our friend, whom I too was 
able to see before his death, was a class-fellow with 
me at Blundell’s, and had been a curate at Tiverton. 
His name,/ I doubt not, will arise to the recollection 
of many.” 

At Blundell’s Mr. Sanders was known as “ Sas,” 
and in his domestic economy, as well as in the general 


school arrangements, followed the traditional lines. 
The beds were unlike any that most of the boarders 


had ever seen, or were yet to see. They were box- 
beds, and so constructed that all the bedding could 
be put into the box, and the bedsteads folded up into 
it. It is not thought that they were ever thus used, 
but the boys found a very good use for the boxes. 
Lights were, of course, put out at a certain time, and 
then, if a boy wanted to read a book, he would hang 
his counterpane over the front of the box and light 
his candle, which was impaled on a stick fixed into 
the side of the box. Occasionally “Sas” would make 
a round of the bed-rooms, and catch a boy with a 
light ; and sometimes a boy would go to sleep, and 
the box and counterpane would be set on fire. But 


1 Mr. Dayman alluded to the Rev. W. C. Salter, late Fellow and 
Tutor of Balliol, and Principal of St. Alban’s Hall, Oxford. 


ee ee ee eee a 


From the painting by Arthur Hacker. ~ Photo by H. Hippisley, Tiverton. 


VEN. ARCHDEACON SANDERS. 


US 


THE REIGN OF “SAS” 237 


it made no difference ; after a short time the practice 
began again. 

In the winter the boys got up at half-past six by 
candle-light, and went into the school at seven. There 
were three calls-over—at 7, 7.5, and 7.15. The two 
first were called by a “lie-abed,” with no master or 
monitor present ; the third was called by a monitor, 
and at that “Sas” was present, with all the monitors. 
The monitors took it in turn by weeks to call over, 
and none of them came into the school till 7.15, when 
“Sas” entered. Each monitor had a small boy to 
call over for him at 7 and 7.5, and this boy had the 
privilege of lying in bed for an extra quarter of an 
hour during the weeks in which he was off duty; 
hence his title of “lie-abed.” Ifa boy failed to answer 
adsum, he was fined a penny, twopence, or threepence 
according as he was absent at the first, second, or 
third call-over. The fines were deducted from the 
“pays” on Saturday; and if the culprit had not suffi- 
cient to pay, “non-sol.” was put after his name, and 
the fine was taken out bya short and painful process. 
At nine the boys went into the hall for breakfast. 

The position of the day boys, in this respect, is thus 
described by Mr. T. Clarke: “School began at seven 
in the morning. The roll was then called, and if 
you were late you were fined a penny. I never 
remember Temple being late, but my bill was usually 
sixpence a week. Afternoon school ended at five, 
and in the winter it was so dark that we used to 
play ‘hunt the hare’ behind the master’s chair. Once 
Dr. Boulton called me up, but I had been playing ‘ pigs- 
driven-to-market, and was chained to the desk by the 
legs. I got four cuts on each hand for that.” 


238 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE — 


So far we have given no strict account of the interior — 


of the school, which was sufficiently impressive. It 


consisted of two long rooms, the upper and lower — 


school, with an open roof, and divided by a passage 


with a double screen, the higher part of which was of © 


open work. Over the entrance to each school was 
carved in either oak or chestnut, “P 1604 B”; and 
above the passage was a gallery leading to a room over 


the porch. The walls were wainscoted up to the sills — 


of the mullioned windows, and two rows of seats or 
blocks, one higher than the other, ran round the rooms. 
These were divided into six sets for six classes—monitors, 
third form, upper and lower second, and upper and 
lower first. All the wood-work of the roof and blocks 
was extremely massive, and, as has been already in- 
dicated, there was the tradition that the timber was 
Spanish chestnut from the wreck of the Armada. Not 
only were the panels covered with the names of former 
boys, but large pieces had been sawn off the blocks 
to be turned into snuff-boxes, which might serve as 
memorials of the school. All the blocks, except those 
below the monitors and third form, had desks in front 
of them, these last two blocks being unused save on 
the awful occasion of a flogging. Then “Sas” called 
out, “Bring me a birch!” The junior of the third 
form left the school, went down to the porter’s lodge, 
received a birch from “Cop,” and brought it to “ Sas,” 
having first carefully beaten it against the walls to 
knock off any obnoxious buds, which might render it 
too painful. 

Mention of desks reminds us of the making of 
“ winkeys,” so graphically described by Blackmore. 

“This is the manner of a ‘winkey, which I have set 


| 
. 
. 


EE 


SS. Ee 


oN 


THE REIGN OF “SAS” 239 


“down lest child of mine, or grandchild, dare to make 


one on my premises; if he does, I shall know the 
mark at once, and score it well upon him. The scholar 
obtains, by prayer or price, a handful of saltpeter, and 
then with the knife, wherewith he should be trying 
rather to mend his pens, what does he do but scoop 
a hole where the desk is some three inches thick. 
This hole should be left with the middle exalted, and 
the circumfere dug more deeply. Then let him fill 
it with saltpeter, all save a little space in the midst, 
where the boss of the wood is. Upon that boss (and 
it will be the better if a splinter of timber rise upward) 
he sticks the end of his candle of tallow or ‘rat’s tail,’ 
as we called it, kindled and burning smoothly. Anon, 
as he reads by that light his lesson, lifting his eyes 
now and then, it may be, the fire of the candle lays 
hold of the peter with a spluttering noise and a leaping. 
Then should the pupil seize his pen, and, regardless 
of the nib, stir bravely, and he will see a glow as of 
burning mountains, and a rich smoke, and sparks going 
merrily ; nor will it cease, if he stir wisely, and there 
be good store of peter, until the wood be devoured 
through, like the sinking of a well-shaft. Now well 
may it go with the head of a boy intent on his 
primer, who betides to sit thereunder! But above all 
things, have good care to exercise this art before 
the master strides up to his desk, in the early grey 
of the morning.” 

Under Mr. Sanders’ rule the making of “winkeys” 
appears to have been disused, for a few years after 
Blackmore left, and before the great débdcle, it had be- 
come a tradition known only by the holes in the desks. 

“Winkeys,’ however, were not the only injury to 


240 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


which the desks, and many other parts of the establish- 
ment, were subject. In the same chapter of Lorna 
Doone we read: 

“ But if you doubt of my having been there, because 
now I know so little, go and see my name ‘John Ridd’ 
graven on that very form. Forsooth, from the time 
I was strong enough to open a knife, and to spell 
my name, I began to grave it in the oak, first of 
the block whereon I sat, and then of the desk in 
front of it, according as I was promoted from one 
to other of them.” . 

This touch was no doubt autobiographical, for, © 
although during our own term at Blundell’s we cannot 
remember noticing Blackmore’s name in any of the 
wood-work, it still remains carven in stone. Once 
upon a time a wag, approaching the school building, © 
exclaimed, “Surely this wall must be a kind of sacred 
rock, whereon are carved the glorious deeds of Tiverton 
worthies, even as the conquests of Darius are graven — 
on the rocks of Susa!” Nearer inspection, however, 
revealed to him that the inscriptions were all due to 
schoolboy industry, were nothing but names, where- 
upon he was led to moralise, “What a force is the 
desire for immortality !” 

Especially to the very young, when to build oneself — 
an everlasting name brings about a sense of triumph — 
and very comfortable satisfaction. At Blundell’s a — 
good deal depended on the energy and perseverance ~ 
expended on the task ; otherwise, as in the ice of © 
Chaucer’s “House of Fame,” whereto the school may — 
be likened, names might enjoy but a brief existence 
in the freestone. The doors of the school, studded 
with huge iron rivets, did not present an encouraging — 


, 


THE REIGN OF “SAS” 241 


surface to the schoolboy knife, so terribly edaxr rerum ; 
and it is quite conceivable that the rivets were meant 
to resist such attempts. 

The interior, on the other hand, gave plentiful evidence 
of the carving propensity. Every panel and desk was 
cut about, as if for years nothing had been taught but 
bad name-graving. All this imparted to the place a 
time-honoured aspect which was not by any means 
a disadvantage. Indeed, to an eye accustomed to 
the spick-and-span appearance of school and college 
buildings of recent date, the rooms, with their old 
wood-work and handsome black and white roof, pro- 
duced a delightful effect, redolent as they were of the 
venerableness of immemorial antiquity, besides being 
charming to look upon. The numerous carvings, we 
must confess, did not in practice add to the convenience 
of the sitting or writing accommodation, but, whether 
good or bad, these are now things of the past, of 
which an ever-diminishing band are the lawful possessors. 
Those survivors will no doubt accord a ready assent 
to some lines quoted by an Old Blundellian—a con- 
temporary and friend of Temple—in St. Peter’s Church, 
Tiverton, on a certain school anniversary: 


Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise, 

We love the play-place of our early days; 

The scene is touching, and the heart is stone 
That feels not at that sight, and feels at none. 
The wall on which we tried our graving skill, 
The very name we carved subsisting still; 

The bench on which we sat, while deep employ’d, 
Though mangled, hack’d, and hew’d, yet not destroyed. 
This fond attachment to the well-known place, 
Whence first we started into life’s long race, 
Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway, 

We feel it e’en in age, and at our latest day. 


16 


242 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


But it is high time that something was said of 
the work of the school, which differed considerably 
from the system of education in vogue at present. 
The course of study was simpler, but, within its limits, 
more thorough. The Greek and Latin grammars had 
to be known by heart from one end to the other, in- 
cluding the small type in the accidence ; and, as Greek 
at all events was new to him, Temple, in common 
with other boys, must sometimes have found his lessons 
hard. Another difficulty was the daily task of Latin 
versification, and here it was a good thing for a junior 
if he had friends in the monitors’ form, for without 
such assistance many a boy would have struggled 
helplessly with the troublesome requirements of the 
art. There were, of course, books of tags handed down . 
from generation to generation, which “Sas” must have ~ 
known by heart, but it is surprising how much ingenuity — 
was called out in originating new ideas. . 

Whatever may be said of Latin verse composition — 
as a daily task, and we may venture to say that this | 
was rather too much of a good thing, we believe it 
to have been a great aid in the development of a sound ~ 
English style. It accustomed boys to take pains, and 
to make the most of their mental resources, even when — 
they possessed no great ability. This supposes that, 
after a preliminary training for which they were 
indebted to their elders, they conscientiously applied 
themselves to the wholesome drudgery; but it is © 
not like boys to spend their labour on that which 
satisfies not, when they can devolve the duty on. 
some one else, and the apparition of a genius, who 
could write not only an original copy for himself, 
but four or five original and different copies for 


THE REIGN OF “SAS” 243 


his friends as well, was a positive misfortune for 
the school. 

Such an one was a boy who was called the “ Doctor.” 
He was not generally popular, but is remembered as 
having perpetrated a very excellent pun. It was the 
custom then, as now, for boys to learn the different 
parts of Greek verbs. The Doctor was given aduxvéowan, 
which proved a stumbling-block as far as the future 
tense was concerned. However, rising to the occasion, 
he humorously cited the aorist, and with a rueful 
countenance, allowed dq¢vEdunpy (“a fix I’m in”). 

This promising youth afterwards gained a scholarship 
at Exeter College, Oxford, took a double first, and 
won the Newdigate with a poem in blank verse—the 
only man, we believe, who ever did so. He was elected 
to a fellowship at Brazenose, and carried off the Chan- 
cellor’s Prize for an English essay. He was a frequent 
contributor to the Westminster Review in its great 
days, an earnest student of Dante, and an acute critic 
of literature in general. His reputation in this depart- 
ment stood so high that at the close of Matthew 
Arnold’s term as Professor of Poetry at Oxford, many 
were anxious that he should offer himself as a candidate 
for the vacant post. His personality, however, whimsical 
in the extreme, was always more impressive than any- 
thing he did, and therefore we fear that in mentioning 
the name by which he was known in mature life, we 
are introducing an entirely forgotten personage. The 
precocious genius was the Rev. S. Harvey Reynolds. 

In its more picturesque relations we shall refer to the 
institution of “spouting” in greater detail hereafter ; 
as an ordinary school exercise, something must be said 
of it here. Every Friday three boys from the monitors 


244 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE K 


and third form used to stand out in the middle of the - 


school and “spout.” That is, they would recite a certain 
number of lines of English poetry, with appropriate 


action. An Old Boy records that his first piece was — 


Milton’s “L’Allegro,” and declares that it has still for 
him the tenderness of a first love. “Sas’s” comment 
on his performance was, “Very well indeed, but no 
action.” After that the novice took care to follow 
Shakespeare’s advice to the players. We shall touch on 
this subject again; meanwhile it will be well to set 
down some “confessions” of Temple regarding his 
progress through the school. 

“T came here” said he, “taught only by my mother, 
and having no other teacher, with no other supply of 
knowledge than an acquaintance with Latin grammar, 
though unable to construe a Latin sentence, a slight 
knowledge of the books of Euclid, and of Bonnycastle’s 
Arithmetic. From this school I began to learn every- 
thing else I wanted for carrying me through life. 

“T came here, when I was twelve years old, being 
placed at the bottom of the school with boys of seven 
or thereabouts. I felt exceedingly ashamed of being 
so low in the school, and made every exertion to rise 
higher, until I was promoted to the monitors’ class, the 


highest place in the school. In every form I made it — 


a rule to do two things: first, carefully to construe the 
lessons, and secondly, to parse every single word, and to 
look out the rule of grammar which governed it. That 


I did throughout the school, though I do not know ~ 


whether Mr. Sanders, who was then the master, found 


it out. 
“On one occasion, when I did not get the prize and 
complained of having to contend against others who 


ee 


THE REIGN OF “SAS” 245 


had been in the class a considerable time longer than I, 
Mr. Sanders looked at me curiously, and said, ‘Umph! 
You are a greedy boy, and had better go to your place.’ 

“] remember soon after I got into the monitors’ class, 
I was partner ina great hoax. There was a test for a 
Greek Iambic prize, and amongst ourselves we calculated 
how the boys would come out in the list. I was put 
down No. 6, but came out fifth, which I thought covered 
me with glory. I stayed in the monitors’ class nearly 
two and a half years, spending my time in an excellent 
place, which, I am sorry to say, has since been abolished, 
and that was a kind of hiding-place behind the master’s 
desk, where I, as well as others in our form, used to 
secrete ourselves and do a great deal of work. I found 
the great benefit I derived from this was that I could 
prepare my lessons, and then catch the eye of my master 
when I was ready.” 

The Rev. J. B. Hughes informs us that he often heard 
Temple tell the tale how he observed that the head- 
master, when looking over exercises, always tried to 
catch the eye of the authors, and, when he succeeded, 
signalled to them to come up and stand by the desk, - 
while the looking-over process went on ; but he, Temple, 
thinking this a loss of time, kept his eyes sealed on 
the book he was reading, and so was not called up till 
last. This amusing lack of complaisance recalls a 
still more humorous story publicly related by the 
Archbishop : 

“ Delightful it was, too, as time went on, still to know 
the dear old headmaster, whom we used sometimes, 
I am ashamed to say, to disobey in secret. And not 
always in secret. Now and then we were caught in the 
act, and I, for myself, can remember when I barely 


246 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


escaped condign punishment. And I only escaped 
because the headmaster said to me, ‘Temple, I do 
believe you are the most impudent boy that ever lived. 
And, at the same time, I don’t deny that you are a 
good boy, and that you work at your lessons, and, as 
a general rule, do what you are told. You are a good 
boy, certainly, but I must really teach you to restrain 
your spirits.’ And I thought to myself, ‘What is to be 
the end of this?’ He added, ‘You must not do any- 
thing of the sort again, I assure you, because it won't be 
the same next time.’ Then I found there was to be 
no punishment at all, which was, of course, a very con- 
siderable relief; and I took very good care not to do 
the same thing afterwards, which had in it a little trace, 
but only a little trace, of being presumptuous, and, 
as he said, impudent.” 

As to the positive value of the education imparted 
at Blundell’s, it is impossible to name a more competent 
judge than Temple himself. A recognised expert, he 
sat on the Schools Inquiry Commission, the constitution 
of which body was remarkable in that four of the 
members had associations of one kind or another with 
Blundell’s School. All the commissioners had a high 
opinion of the Devonshire school, and constantly referred 
to it as a model establishment. But Temple: “ What- 
ever may be the future of this school, I consider it 
always stood as a type of those old grammar schools 
to which England owes so much, because in them so 
many eminent men have received the instruction which 
raised them from an obscure situation to become good 
servants of the nation in Church and State. Such a 
school as this, with its old traditions, with its old system 
of teaching, and its regular steady working, is one of 


THE REIGN OF “SAS” 247 


the greatest privileges which Englishmen ever know. I 
don’t say there is not a great deal wrong that needs 
reformation, and many things I should like to see changed, 
although, I must confess, many changes have been 
made since I left of which I do not heartily approve. 
But still, in this school a sound and substantial edu- 
cation was always inculcated into the minds of the 
scholars. 

“What is wanted is not the subversion of anything 
that is done, but an addition. We were, when I was 
here, taught to rely on our own exertions, and were 
well tested. We were not made merely to listen to a 
teacher, but to learn. I have sometimes thought that 
we might have been taught to learn a little more 
than we did, and have wished that the course was a 
little wider than it was, yet I have never been able 
to get rid of the feeling that, if you have a few lessons 
and a great deal of time, to those who, like myself, took 
a great deal of interest in the work, you found an 
incentive in the freedom in which you were left. I 
know I read nearly the whole of Euripides in my spare 
time, and I don’t think I should have done so much 
if I had been given the same amount of work in 
school-lessons. You may depend upon it there is a 
real and special value in thus throwing a boy on his 
own resources, and allowing him to learn in such a 
way as that. 

“JT can remember as quite a commonplace thing that 
I got hold of a book no doubt known to most of 
you—Bland’s Algebraic Problems—and worked entirely 
through it in playtime, and found afterwards that it 
gave me the lower parts of algebra, which I doubt if I 
could have obtained from any teacher whatever. I must 


<t J vr it Ph Ct | 


248 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


therefore confess Ihave a love for the old grammar- 
school system. And then, to add to all this, the 
affection with which our hearts were filled for the place, 
the delights of the games, the pleasure in wandering 
about the roads and fields, the football, the cricket, 
and the paper-chase, are, to my mind, things never to 
be forgotten. It is not only lessons and the cultivation 
of the brain that make the man, but something is 
needed to warm his heart, and to instil into him a 
care for his fellow-creatures. It is something to have 
old school-fellows to care for, to feel that there is a 
tie between us which makes us glad to see each 
other’s faces. As long as I live, wherever I go, if I 
meet a Blundell’s schoolfellow—whether one with whom 
I was at school, or one who came in earlier or later 
times—I shall always consider that our hearts have 
been brought together by love for the same old school.” 

These words were spoken in 1870. The notion that 
more should be left to a boy’s own initiative had for 
Temple something of the force of settled conviction, 
since thirty years later we find him giving expression 
to the same thought, the same regret: 

“The system of education which prevailed when I 
was at school had its faults, but it had one considerable 
merit which I wish existed in the school system of the 
present day. That is, that the boys were allowed a 
good deal of time to themselves. I wish, indeed, that 
the perpetual pressure brought to bear upon boys at 
school in these days were somewhat relaxed. School- 
boys nowadays have too many things to learn to allow 
them to learn any one thing thoroughly well. Their 
minds are so crammed up with things at school that 
they have no chance of that spontaneous self-education 


i 
: 


THE REIGN OF “SAS” 249 


which is the best part of all education. I remember 
that when I was at school I had time, out of school 
hours, to make good progress alone in mathematics 
and classics, apart from the school curriculum. That 
is a thing impossible for boys at school to do in these 
days. It is now thought a good thing that a boy 
should know something about everything, but I, for 
my part, prefer a system of education which will teach 
a boy a few things thoroughly. 

“T have my own boys at Rugby, and I wish they 
could have a little more time to themselves. They 
are worked from morning to night. I think it is a 
great pity that the present system of education crams 
something into every minute of the day. When I was 
at Rugby I tried to relax the pressure, in spite of the 
tremendous pressure which parents brought to bear 
in the opposite direction; and I believe the system 
of which I complain has increased rather than decreased 
since I was at Rugby. I hope the day will soon come 
when the headmasters will awake to the importance 
of diminishing the pressure that is put upon boys at 
school. I look upon the education I received at school 
as a marvellous gift, which was available then, as it 
is now, to the great mass of English boys. I will say 
in conclusion that the aim of every school, if it is to 
to vindicate its place in the system of English education, 
must be, above everything else, the formation of manly 
character.” 

For this side of a boy’s training Temple would have 
looked largely to the games. We are afraid the pre- 
_ ceding pages may have conveyed the impression that 
at Blundell’s the out-of-school hours were taken up with 
a perpetual round of bathing, and it would certainly ap- 


hay os 


250 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


pear that the Blundellians of that day were amphibious 
to a degree hardly attainable now, when so many 
recreations come in to claim a share of attention. 
There was something unconventional in the style of 
the amusements preferred. Apart from bathing, leap- 
ing with a pole and fishing were the chief delights; 
and the Lowman afforded scope for both. The stickles 
in the Lowman and the Taunton brook were excellent 
for loaches, which, as readers of Lorna Doone well 
know, were speared under a big stone with a fork. 
The boys used to cook their fish themselves, in the 
kitchen, sometimes by frying them, but more often 
by pickling them in a brown jar filled with vinegar 
and flavoured with bay-leaves, which was allowed to 
spend the night in the kitchen oven. The fish were 
very good. 

Bolder spirits used to shirk up town and boat on 
the Exe in barques so huge that there was no fear 
of their upsetting; and some of them, we regret to 
say, used to catch trout and dace by poisoning them 
with ivy berries. There is a tradition that from a 
part of the school premises overhanging the Lowman 
boys used to fish for ducks with considerable success, 
and get them cooked by Cop’s wife. 

The Green, as has been said, was divided into two 
parts by the causeway. The part on the right, as 
one enters, was devoted to cricket; that on the left 
to football. The boys did all the work for the cricket 
ground except mowing. They picked up the broken 
bits of the lime branches, and rolled it diligently, and 
kept it in good order. The ground was absurdly small, 
but the boys enjoyed their games, and hit as hard 
against the trees and walls as if they had plenty of 


THE REIGN OF “SAS” 251 


room, and some of them learned to distinguish them- 
selves in after years. Temple did not excel at cricket, 
although he played occasionally, and, when Bishop of 
London, gave a good account of himself in a match 
against several American bishops on his own lawn. 
But if he never made much of a hand at cricket, he 
was a Capital football player. ‘When I came,” he said 
on one occasion, “football was at its height, and on 
the second day I was drawn for a match, and told 
by a big boy to stand at the goal and not to let the 
ball pass. Soon afterwards the ball came that way, 
and I rushed towards it, but before I could think of 
the consequence I was kicked with the ball right 
through the goal. After that I was looked upon as 
a courageous football player, and to this day I have 
on my shins the marks of the kicks received in that 
game. I can assure you, while the Earl of Devon 
has been good enough to speak of the exertions I 
made in my studies, I exerted myself just as hard 
at cricket and football. I think I should fail in giving 
schoolboys advice were I to omit impressing upon 
them the due importance of exercise and study com- 
bined. You may think me a little conceited in thus 
speaking of myself, but one can hardly help being 
proud of one’s schoolboy recollections.” 

Temple was certainly proud of the fact that when 
he left the school he was proclaimed the best foot- 
baller there, but at one time he seems to have had 
a formidable rival in Richard Clarke. When, as 
archbishop, he went down to Tiverton to receive the 
freedom of the borough, he said to his old friend 
and contemporary, Mr. Thomas Clarke, “ How’s Dick ? 
He was a better footballer than I, because he could 


252 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 7 


run faster.” The boys appear to have had no rules 
to speak of. If one caught the ball in the air he 
was allowed three strides and a free kick towards 
the two trees which formed the goal. The boys played 
not only cricket and football, but prisoner’s base and 
fives, the latter against the school buildings or inside 
the lower school, which made a splendid fives’ court. 

All these resources, however, did not suffice for 
Temple. Moreover, unlike Pickard, who was a great 
angler and used to tie his flies in school, he did not 
fish. How was he to work off his superfluous energy ? 
Harmlessly enough. He walked for miles upon miles, so 
that he could state many years afterwards, “I may say 
I know Tiverton; and I know the neighbourhood of 
Tiverton better, I expect, than anybody else in this 
room [a large hall packed with residents of the borough], 
for I don’t think there is a lane—I was a great walker 
in those days—within seven miles of Tiverton, which 
I haven’t trodden in former days. I don’t think there 
is a single spot where I haven’t been, or have not 
been within five or six hundred yards of, throughout 
this big parish, and I know it and love it.” 

The walks round Tiverton are not as famous as 
those in North Devon, nor is Exeter Hill to be com- 
pared to Haytor. Still, climbing it is no bad exercise 
for limb and lung; and as for scenery, the valley of 
the Exe is beautiful. enough to have called forth a 
poem, entitled “The Exe below Tiverton at Sunrise,” 
from the pen of Keble. As Temple was so well 
acquainted with the district, it is probable that there 
was not a village or hamlet within a seven mile 
radius which he did not visit; while a daily con- 
stitutional “round Tidcombe,’ or in dirty weather to 


| 
| 


“UTHM ATHIAHSVM 
“uojdanr yy, ‘Kasiddipy “HT 49 0j0ug 


ee danaes 
Tipster ce sae 


THE REIGN OF “SAS” 253 


Putson’s Barn for the sake of a continuous footpath, 
or over Exeter Hill to the site of the “ Deserted Cottage,” 
may perhaps be taken for granted. 

Four years after his appointment as Bishop of Exeter, 
Dr. Temple, happening to be at Washfield, a village 
about three miles from Tiverton, observed that it was 
not the first by a good many times that he had been 
there. He remembered, he said, in his schooldays 
often having picnics at a spot near Washfield Weir, 
and these reminiscences made him extremely happy. 
He added that about ten years before he had had 
a walking tour with a friend in Devonshire, and at 
that time paid Washfield a visit, though perhaps then 
very few noticed him. 

We suspect that by “a spot near Washfield Weir” 
Temple intended practically the weir itself, which 
is one of the most charming places in the neighbour- 
hood, and is stlll in great request with picnickers. 
A high steep bank of red loam, clad with trees and 
bushes as far as the edge of the precipice, forms the 
background, and the long weir extends in a parallel 
direction. Between bank and weir the water is very 
deep and cool, especially in the afternoon, when it is 
in shadow, and the Blundell’s boys, as well as the 
youth of the town, often repaired thither in summer 
for the purpose of bathing. Part of the water is 
drawn off into a leat, and the rest falls in silvery 
sheets over the weir. As its bed is too large for its 
requirements save in flood-time, the river runs in 
channels on either side of an islet over-grown with 
grasses, and there, we doubt not, Temple and his 
friends held their picnics. 

The curate at Washfield in those days was Mr. 


254 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 4 


(afterwards Canon) Hinds-Howell, who, soon after 
Temple’s elevation to the Primacy, addressed the 
following letter to the Zzmes: “Will you allow me to 
forge another link with the past, a link connecting two 
hundred and fifty years and more? I well remember 
meeting at Tiverton in 1835 a gentleman eighty years 
of age (once a master at Blundell’s School), who 
informed me that his grandfather had seen King 
Charles I. ride into Exeter on his well-known white 
horse. This fact had been related to my informant 
by his father, who had been told of it by his father. 
Thus four lives only have bridged over this long 
period of time.” 

A touching coincidence in connection with Washfield 
may well be recorded. It is highly probable, and 
indeed certain, that a partner in the picnics was a 
boy named Richard Howell Taylor, a great friend of 
Temple, and his constant companion in his long and 
invigorating tramps through the country lanes, Four 
years ago, on the death of the Rev. Clement Govett, 
a most genial and kind-hearted Old Blundellian and 
Balliol scholar, the living of Washfield was offered 
to the Rev. C. H. Knowlys, who had married Mr. 
Taylor's daughter. Mr. Knowlys accepted the prefer- 
ment largely for the sake of her old father, who 
wished to return to the scenes of his early life; but 
unfortunately, just as the arrangements had been 
concluded, and before he could go to reside at that 
pleasant rectory, death interposed. Mrs. Knowlys, 
however, continues to live at Washfield, and so may 
be said to represent her father in the country which 
he and Temple loved so well. 

Temple’s pedestrian powers were remarkable. He 


THE REIGN OF “SAS” 255 


was fond of telling his friends that he used sometimes 
to cover fifty miles a day, and that he could walk six 
miles an hour. The late Warden of Merton (the Hon. 
George Brodrick), who heard him make the statement, 
thought his memory was deceiving him, but the 
Archbishop’s sons were positive there was no mistake 
—their father was quite as good an athlete as he had 
described himself. For ourselves, with the tradition 
of yet more notable feats by West-countrymen fresh 
in our minds, and Temple’s sturdy and well-knit frame 
vividly present to our recollection, we are innocent of 
any doubt, though, we confess, to walk that distance, 
and to do it often, is entirely out of the rut of 
common experience. 

With Temple’s walking achievements may be bracketed 
his jumping performances. After diligent practice he 
became an adept in crossing the school in three jumps, 
which must have been roughly eight feet in length, 
as the old school was twenty-four feet wide. The 
Rev. J. B. Hughes writes on this point: “I can 
corroborate this last story, for one day, when engaged 
in the headmaster’s hall, I heard a tremendous noise 
in the lower school, and supposing it was caused by 
boys who had no business there, I rushed by my 
private door into the schoolroom, and to my utter 
surprise, found Temple, then Headmaster of Rugby, 
sedulously trying to cross the room in three strides.” 

We may here allude to the subject of Temple’s school 
friendships. By far the most interesting and memor- 
able is his association with Richard Doddridge Black- 
more, who displayed the gewius Joc in letters just 
as Temple did in action. The future novelist was a 
few years younger than the future Archbishop, entering 


256 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE — 


the school in 1837 and leaving it in 1845. He boarded 
with Frederick Temple and his brother John at the 
house of “a decent old woman in the town ”—viz., Mrs. 
Folland, of Cop’s Court. Blackmore therefore came to | 
Blundell’s under the charge and auspices of Temple, — 
who in consequence exercised a sort of authority over 
him, and no doubt a considerable amount of influence too. 
Although none of Blackmore’s contemporaries suspected 
that he would be eminent in literature, his connection 
with one who was so especially a decus et tutamen of 
the foundation of Peter Blundell must have been wholly 
beneficial. Temple was, in fact, a big brother not only 
to Blackmore, but to us all. 

Nor do we think that Blackmore’s sojourn under 
the roof of “Old Cop” can be treated as a negligible 
factor, for Folland was by no means devoid of intelli- 
gence. His “household gods” included a veritable — 
curfew, or fire-plate, which he was proud to show to his 
friends, and on which both Temple and Blackmore must 
often have gazed with curiosity. It was composed of 
bell-metal, had a looped handle, and in form somewhat 
resembled a Dutch oven. When “curfew rang the knell 
of parting day,” Folland’s belonging appears to have 
been the actual implement with which the fire was 
covered. Whence he obtained this piece of antiquity 
we cannot say, but by a stretch of imagination one 
may suppose it to have been used in Tiverton centuries 
before kitchen stoves were invented, when fires were ~ 
always on the hearth and peat and wood were the 
only fuel. This article of furniture was just the sort — 
of thing calculated to stir whatever romantic feelings 
might lurk in a boy’s bosom, but, singularly enough, 5 
it is not even mentioned in Lorna Doone. 


r 


lan on 


THE REIGN OF “SAS” 257 


Temple is our authority for stating that Blackmore 
was an excellent chess-player, and another old school- 
fellow can testify to his budding poetic genius, of 
which he furnishes the following illustration. At a 
certain annual examination the boys were set by 
Dornford, a Fellow of Oriel, to translate the Ze Deum 
into elegiacs). When they came to the “noble army 
of martyrs” as the matter for a pentameter, difficulties 
arose ; and while some of them laboured over xodzlis 
exercitus, Blackmore solved the problem with mar- 
turiana cohors, though Temple averred that there was 
no such word in Latin as marturianus. 

This reminds us that Temple, like the rest of the 
boys, had to make Latin verses. Although a man 
of talent, he did not impress one in later life as having 
much of the poetic fire, and we happen to possess an 
estimate of him, shutting out this element, by a true 
poet—the venerable Archbishop Alexander. 


Yet a ripe scholar of the days now olden, 
Not of our present state, 

Who hate the language musical and golden 
That made so many great. 

What if it gave him not the poet’s vision 
Or critic's? Yet it lent 

The passionless process and the fine precision 
Of perfect argument. 


So Latin verse composition has its use, after all. 
Still, in the pursuit of fine metrical precision Temple, 
if he had been questioned on the subject, might have 
been fain to admit, as Gladstone did of his Eton days, 
that he put many words into his verses to fill up the 
line. Anyhow, he must have acquired considerable 
facility in the art, for, during the concluding portion 

17 


258 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


of his stay, he did his duty as a monitor by befriending 
puzzled youngsters in their hour of need. Mr. Clement 
Waldron acknowledged that he had been thus helped 
by Temple, and Mr. T. D. Taylor tells us that the 
kind but conscientious monitor, not to encourage idleness, 
weaned the sucking bards the moment he deemed them 
capable of fending for themselves. The forging of Latin 
verse, he owns, was not a strong point with him, but 
one day—the subject being “Jason and the Golden 
Fleece’—he made a few which, to his intense amazement, 
Temple pronounced “all right.” “And now, young 
fellow,” he said, “you must not come to me again. 
I shall not help you any more. You can do very 
well, if you will only take a little pains.” 

To return to Blackmore. Mr. Thomas Clarke tells 
us that he remembers on one occasion riding back 
from Cullompton with his father, who, as justice of the 
peace, had been attending the sessions. On reaching 
White Down they came upon Temple and his brother 
and Blackmore playing marbles; and Mr. Clarke, 
turning to his son, observed, “Tom, mark my words— 
you'll live to see Frederick Temple a bishop.” When 
in 1869 this prophecy was fulfilled, Temple’s old school- 
fellow’ called on him at the Palace at Exeter, and, 
congratulating him on his appointment, informed him 
of what his father had said so many years before. 

Of the three marble-players, Blackmore went up to 
Oxford, entered at Trinity College, and took a second- 
class in classics. He was called to the Bar, but, as 
may be seen by some of his novels, had a superior liking 
for gardening, which he preferred even to romance- 
writing. As a contemporary remarked, he “ wrote novels 
for a living, but grew pears and peaches for his pleasure.” 


: 
| 


—— 


THE REIGN OF “SAS” 259 


He began his literary career with Poems by Melanter, 
Epullias, The Bugle of the Black Sea, and a translation 
of the Georgics, a book the title-page of which bore 
the strange intimation “By a Market Gardener.” The 
description, however, was literally true. With regard 
to his novels he commenced in 1864 with Clara Vaughan. 
Then at intervals of two or three years he published 
in succession Cradock Nowell; the ever-popular Lorna 
Doone ; The Maid of Sker ; Alice Lorraine; Cripps the 
Carrier ; Erema, or Thy Father's Sin ; Mary Annerley ; 
Christowell ; The Remarkable History of Sir Thomas 
Upmore ; Springhaven ; and Kit and Kztty. After an 
interval of five years he published in 1894 Perlycross, 
which was followed in 1896 by Zales from the Telling 
House, and finally, in 1897, Darzel. In 1895 Blackmore 
returned to his old love, poetry, and Mr. Elkin Matthews 
published for him /7ngz//a, a little volume of verse 
embellished with curious illustrations and decorations. 
Blackmore died January 20th, 1900. 

John Temple went out to the East Indies, where 
he joined the Madras Army. He proved an able and 
popular officer, and eventually attained the rank of 
Lieutenant-Colonel. The late Archbishop of Canterbury 
died on December 23rd, 1902, and it is a curious coinci- 
dence that his brother met his death by a boating 
accident at Madras, on December 23rd, 1866. Colonel 
Temple, Captain F. H..Hope, an aide-de-camp of the 
late Lord Napier of Ettrick, Mr. Bostock, agent for the 
Peninsular and Oriental Steamship Company, and two 
young ladies, daughters of Mr. John Medver, manager 
of the Bank of Madras, went out for a row on the River 
Adyar in the evening, when the boat ran on a sand- 
bank. It was pushed off by the gentlemen, and shortly 


q 


260 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


afterwards filled rapidly with water and sank. Colonel 
Temple and Captain Hope made gallant efforts to save 
the two ladies, but all four were drowned, the only 
survivor of the party in the boat being Mr. Bostock, 
who managed to swim back to the sand-bank, from 
which he was rescued. The bodies were all recovered, 
and Colonel Temple was buried on Christmas Eve, 
1866, in St. Mary’s burial-ground, Madras. 

In a speech at Tiverton in 1900 the late Archbishop 
remarked, “ Here I made the aquaintance of the truest 
friend that I have ever had in all my life. He lived 
in this town, was a Tiverton boy, and attended the 
school as a Tiverton boy.” These words undoubtedly 
refer to Robert Lawson, the son of a gentleman who 
lived in a very grand house in Fore Street, which had 
been not long before the residence of Sir John Duntze, 
one of Blundell’s trustees. The Rev. R. B. Carew, in a 
conversation at Bickleigh a short time before his death, 
mentioned to us a striking coincidence. (Temple’s 
life, apparently, was full of coincidences.) He told us 
that Lawson’s father was travelling with a tutor in 
Belgium during the campaign of Waterloo, and, on the 
day of the memorable engagement, in which Major 
Temple took part, was actually within sound of the 
guns, Odd that their sons should have met in the 
same West-country town, to become attached and 
lifelong friends ! 

Compared with that of his comrade, Lawson’s will 
appear a somewhat humdrum career. Born in 1822 
at Richmond, in Yorkshire, his family soon afterwards 
settled at Tiverton; and here there grew up between 
Robert Lawson and Frederick Temple a strange and 
touching friendship, which no difference of work or 


THE REIGN OF “SAS” 261 


office availed to lessen. From Blundell’s, Lawson pro- 
ceeded to Christ Church, Oxford, where he took his 
B.A. degree in 1844, and his M.A. in 1847. He was 
ordained deacon in 1846, and priest in 1848. For six 
years he was vicar of Offenham, near Evesham, and 
in 1864 was appointed rector of Upton-on-Severn. 
Subsequently he became Honorary Canon of Worcester 
Cathedral. Failing health obliged him to resign his 
living in 1894, and from that time to his death in 1897 
he lived in close retirement at Malvern. Such a life 
was eminently useful and honourable, and Lawson’s 
character must have been exceptionally high to have 
drawn from one who was not given to flattery, and 
was a rare judge of men, the eloquent tribute, 
“His perfect simplicity, his unfeigned humility, his 
unstained truth, his gentle, kindly humour, his deep, 
unwavering faith—of these we shall think often, and 
thank God many times for having given us the 
companionship of so loving and beautiful a soul.” 
Canon Lawson married the only sister of a soldier, 
who came eventually to be known as Sir George 
Malcolm, G.C.B. Malcolm was educated at Blundell’s ; 
and, after passing through Haileybury, joined the 
Bombay Army. When the Second Sikh War broke out 
he shared, early in 1849, the crowning glory of Goojerat. 
Malcolm had two hundred and fifty men with him, and 
was ordered, in conjunction with the gth Lancers, to 
stop a charge of fifteen hundred Afghan horse, which 
threatened the British left. Some misunderstanding 
of orders led to the Scinde horse going alone, but 
Malcolm’s men were so confident in him, and in them- 
selves, that they drove the huge mass of their enemies 
in headlong rout. The whole army applauded the feat ; 


262 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


and Malcolm, as the consequence, found himself moved 
up two steps in rank. 

We have already alluded to Richard Howell Taylor, 
who hailed from Bristol and appears to have been 
almost as great a friend of Temple as Lawson himself. 
Unfortunately, this gentleman died a few years ago, and 
with him perished a whole fund of reminiscences. 
Out of this great lost store we have succeeded in saving 
only some scanty memories. On leaving Blundell’s. 
Taylor proceeded to Trinity College, Oxford, where 
his acquaintance with Temple was kept up; and when 
he left the university, the two friends, on separating, 
exchanged Bibles. On Temple’s appointment to the 
bishopric of Exeter, Taylor wrote him a letter of con- 
gratulation, in which he reminded him of the circumstance. 
The bishop’s reply is given on the following pages. 

Mr. Robert Henry Taylor relates that when Temple 
(whom he can remember as a ruddy-faced youth calling 
at their house in Bristol), was at Kneller Hall, he 
accompanied his eldest brother on a visit to him. 
Some chat ensued, and Richard remarked, “ You ought 
to have gone to the Bar. You would have risen to be 
Lord Chancellor.” . 

“So Lord John Russell tells me,” answered Temple, 
with a smile. 

The late Archbishop sent a kind letter to his old 
schoolfellow on his marriage in 1850, and other corre- 
spondence took place, which has been burnt. This 
member of the Taylor family took orders, and was 
for many years vicar of Kemble. 

We would gladly have recorded more of this early 
friend of Temple, but the willingness of the spirit is 
defeated by paucity of matter. However, the deficiency 


ADDRESS“ THE PALACE, 


EXETER. 


— ts Beek Poa ks, 
Wiese [ite Tape oc wom / 
it wie adaraoTk teeag tay, ede . 


264 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


J dell 1k ea foe 
Who a hoary eth teh S' have 


Spon vce 


Fie 


= oN 


THE REIGN OF “SAS” 265 


is, to some extent, remedied by information for which 
we are indebted to Mr. T. D. Taylor, who, though 
junior to Temple, was, as we have seen, at school 
with him. 

“He was,” says Mr. Taylor, “an intimate friend of 
my eldest brother, the late Rev. R. Howell Taylor, who 
was at Blundell’s with him for some years, and their 
friendly relations were continued afterwards at Oxford, 
where my brother was at Trinity and Temple at Balliol. 
Once when he was passing through Bristol he stayed, 
as my brother’s guest, a night at my father’s house 
in Berkeley Square, and, on the following morning, 
walked up to Brandon Hill, which commands a fine 
view of the ‘City of Churches.’ I believe my brother 
and his oldest schoolfellow kept up a correspondence 
for some years after their college life was closed. 

“When I went to Blundell’s in 1836, my brother 
gave me a letter of introduction to Temple, but I 
should never have felt myself privileged to claim 
him as an intimate friend. We were too far apart. 
I was his junior by quite two years—he a monitor 
and I in one of the lower forms of the upper school. 
I remember that when I presented my letter, he re- 
ceived me kindly, and gave me some excellent advice, 
recommending me particularly to avoid quarrelling. 
‘But, said he, ‘if any boy attempts to bully you 
and hits you about, stick up to him and hit him 
again.’ 

“This was in substance, as you will recognise, the 
advice Polonius gives to Laertes: 


Beware 
Of entrance to a quarrel, but being in’t, 
Beart that the opposer may beware of thee. 


es 4) a 


266 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


“Temple also told me that I might consult him if 
I was in any difficulty about my work, and he 
frequently looked over my exercises, themes, etc. ; 
and, as you say, helped me with my verses. I left 
Blundell’s in 1838. 

“About a month after the school gathering in 
which he pathetically alluded to his wounded shins, I 
travelled to town by the early train from Bristol, and 
had the Bishop as my sole companion as far as Bath, 
where other passengers joined us. His lordship was 
very affable, inquired for my brother, and presently, 


handing me a letter from a well-filled despatch-box, — 


said, ‘Look at the signature. It is from an Old 
Blundellian ; tell me if you remember him.’ I had 
no recollection of the writer, and said so. ‘ Well,’ said 
the Bishop, laughingly, ‘he writes to me making the 
extraordinary complaint that he has a very large in- 
come and nothing to do.’ 

“When we got to Swindon, where there was then a 
wait of ten minutes, the Bishop walked with me up and 
down the platform ; and when we reached Paddington 
he left me with a cordial shake of the hand.” 

Mr. T. D. Taylor is the proprietor of the Bristol 
Times and Mirror. This well-known Tory paper, which 
first saw the light, though under another name, in 
1702, became in 1811 the property of Mr. John Taylor. 
Mr. T. D. Taylor, his son, entered Blundell’s, as he 
has told us, in 1836. In 1859 the grandson, Mr. J. 
Goodenough Taylor, to-day the active partner, was 
enrolled on the school register. He is a frequent and 
welcome visitor on Old Boys’ Day, and is perhaps 
best known to the present generation of Blundellians 
as the donor of the silver medal for speaking, annually 


3 


THE REIGN OF “SAS” 267 


awarded in the summer term. His son, Mr L. A. G. 
Taylor, left the school in 1890. 

One of Temple’s younger contemporaries, Samuel 
Blomefield Kekewich, was a son of Mr. Trehawke 
Kekewich, of Peamore, near Exeter, and uncle of 
the defender of Kimberley. He was a boarder at Dr. 
Boulton’s from 1837 to 1844. On quitting Blundell’s 
he entered the army, and subsequently served in the 
Crimea. It is probable a unique circumstance—we are 
tired of the word “ coincidence ”»—that in 1883 Colonel 
Kekewich came to reside at Old Blundell’s in the 
house formerly occupied by the lower master, which 
was, in fact, his own old house; and there he died 
November 30th, 1889, aged sixty-three. Colonel Keke- 
wich rescued from the débvzs an old form covered with 
inscriptions, which he presented to his old friend and 
schoolfellow, the Rev. Donald M. Owen. 

_ And now we must allude to Sir George Tompkyns 
Chesney, one of Sanders’ pupils who achieved real 
and great distinction. Although he was not at school 
with Temple, it is hard to think of him otherwise 
than as a member, and perhaps not the least important 
member of a trio, of which the other two were 
Temple and Blackmore. Chesney’s mother, who was 
an officer's widow in reduced circumstanccs, kept a 
ladies’ school at Tiverton, but for day-boys education 
at Blundell’s was not at that time an expensive affair, 
and even now they have some advantages in respect 
of terms. Chesney, who saw active service during 
the Mutiny, was the author of an important work 
on “Indian Polity,” and in 1871 the Royal Indian 
Engineering College at Cooper’s Hill was opened under 
his guidance. In the same year his Battle of Dorking — 


" 


268 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


was published anonymously in Blackwood’s Magazine, 
and afterwards asa brochure. The book, which caused 
a great sensation, pointed out under cover of a story 
the weak points in home defence, and was the pioneer 
of many other efforts similar in character, but for the 
most part decidedly inferior in merit. 

In January 1893 General Chesney took the chair 
at an Old Boys’ dinner at the Criterion Restaurant, 
on which occasion he delivered several speeches full 
of interest and animation. He declared that upon 
returning to England for good, after many years 
spent in various positions, mainly in the East, hardly 
anything had given him greater satisfaction than 
having the honour to preside at that gathering, and 
to have his health drunk in such kindly terms by 
Old Blundellians. He had that evening on his right 
the first boy—he was a boy then—who spoke to him 
when he went to Blundell’s School. He referred to 
Mr. Gray, who said to him, “ We have a whole holiday 
to-morrow, because Temple has taken a double first.” 
He, Chesney, did not know what taking a double first 
meant, but he had a keen conception of what a whole 
holiday meant. He had not met Mr. Gray for fifty 
years before that night, but Mr. Gray had not passed 
out of his recollection. There was nothing more gratify- 
ing than to meet one’s old school-friends in that way 
late in life. A school was like a regiment. Men came 
and men departed, but the regiment remained the 
same corporate body. Whether they were young or 
old, they were still Blundellians. 

But enough of the “oblique oration”; our heart 


1The late Mr. Samuel Octavius Gray (Boulton’s 1839-44), 
Chief Accountant of the Bank of England. 


| 


— 


THE REIGN OF “SAS” 269 


is sick of it, and the residue of General Chesney’s 
remarks shall be given as nearly as possible in the 
way he uttered them. 

“Tn my own time the hours were very extraordinary 
in the lower school. There used to be three schools 
a day. They were from seven to nine, from ten to 
twelve, and from two to four. At some times of 
the year the boarders were expected to come down 
before sunrise. Often, though the boys were there, 
the masters were not. A pandemonium reigned for 
a time. Then when the intimation was received that 
the Headmaster was approaching, the boys settled 
down as quietly as mice. I was an idle boy when 
at school, but there was one person more idle than 
myself, and that was the lower master. Poor old 
gentleman, he used to come down an hour late; and 
it is only fair to say that he made up for it by going 
an hour earlier than the end of school-time. 

“There was a different state of things in the upper 
school. A standard of discipline was maintained, and 
the work was thoroughly done. Every Old Blundellian 
who was there in the time of Mr. Sanders’ mastership 
must feel what an obligation he owed to him. Mr. 
Sanders gave us a real love for classical scholarship ; 
boys who went from Blundell’s School to the universities 
at that time carried with them a real love for classical 
literature. Amongst other good things in Blundell’s 
School at that time also was the cultivation of the 
memory. Apart from the prize you might get for 
your position in the class, there was a prize open 
to any boy who could repeat at the end of the term 
a certain number of Latin lines. Of all useful lessons 
a boy can have, the practice of his memory in classical 


270 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


literature, and especially in the poetry of Homer and 
Virgil, is the most noteworthy. It gives a sort of 
pleasure which never leaves him, and will be of the 
greatest possible value in leading him on to the study 
of other literature. It is from regard to these things 
that I think the education of Blundell’s—though they 
gave little of mathematics or history—was excellent. 

“JT have spoken of work. I have also a pleasant 
recollection of the hours of play. We had two half- 
holidays a week. Nothing could exceed the delight 
of those times—especially in the summer, when we 
had bathing in the Lowman. When we were tired 
of bathing in the Lowman, we could bathe in the 
Exe. There was, of course, a good deal of bullying, 
and the classical form of single combat was often 
practised. I am not sure that fighting was in those 
days so reprehensible as some people think it must 
have been. We had, in fact, no other excitement. 
Nowadays the love for contests is satisfied in other 
ways. Railroads, for instance, have made it possible 
to have athletic competitions between people in other 
parts of the country. Referring to this point, I may 
venture to say that the English type, far from declining 
in manly virtues, is improving.” 

At last we return to “Sas.” We have seen what 
Temple and Chesney thought and felt about their 
old headmaster, and Mr. Sanders’ opinion of Temple 
when a boy is no longer a secret to us. In course of 
time “Sas” rose to be Archdeacon of Exeter, but his 
former pupil rose still higher, and, after an absence 
of many years, came back to the diocese as its bishop. 
To some men, perhaps, the promotion of an old 
scholar to a position of direct authority over themselves 


THE REIGN OF “SAS” 271 


would be a cause of mixed feelings, but Mr. Sanders 
was too much of a Christian and a gentleman to 
harbour any unworthy sentiments. Instead of that 
he welcomed his brilliant pupil, then the mark of 


hostile demonstrations, with cordial admiration and 


sympathy. “I loved and valued him as a boy, loved 
him as a man, clasped him to my heart as a friend, 
and now I revere him as my bishop.” What could a 
man placed in such circumstances say more, or say 
better ? 

A portrait of Mr. Sanders by Mr. Arthur Hacker, 
which is at once a good likeness and an excellent’ 
work of art, hangs in the big school at Horsdon ; and 
attached to the picture is a tablet bearing this in- 
scription. “Ven. Hen. Sanders, M.A., Archdeacon of 
Exeter, Headmaster of Blundell’s School, 1834 to 1847 ; 
died 1888, aged 82.” 

The school is indebted for this memorial to two 
old pupils of Mr. Sanders, the Rev. D. M. Owen and 
the Rev. R. B. Carew, who collected subscriptions for 
the purpose. The former, if we do not mistake, was 
one of the dvamatis persone of the following story, 
which some years ago found its way into print, and 
which may be cited as a crowning illustration of the 
thoroughness of the teaching imparted in the school 
under Temple’s headmasters. 

Two brothers, Old Blundellians, were sitting by the 
fireside one evening fighting their battles o’er again in 
the shape of perilous adventures by flood and field, 
jointly enterprised from their old home at Tiverton. 
By chance, mention was made of the late Mr. Henry 
Dunsford, his pack of harriers, and his favourite stallion- 
steed “Nemo,” who, one afternoon, when his master 


272 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


was leading him with a free rein, gave a playful grab 
at the M. H.’s broad back, and was rewarded with 
a good thrashing with his hunting-crop. The junior 
O. B. ventured on the remark, 


“Nemo” me tmpune lacessit, 


which the senior instantly capped with the criticism, 
“ Nemo” repente fuit turpissimus. 


This was a good example of the proverb servadbit 
odorem testa diu, since the two O. B.’s mustered 
between them just a hundred and fifty years, and the 
senior had not been convicted of consulting a Latin 
author or lexicon for more than sixty years. 

Perhaps, however, a still better proof that Blundell’s 
was one of the great schools of the country is a remark 
which, Temple stated, he remembered as coming from 
the master of Harrow School. “I wish,” he said to 
Mr. Sanders, “I had as fine a school as you have 
got.” 


CHAPTER XII 
SOME FESTIVALS 


MONG the memories of Blundell’s School life, 
hardly any is so prominent as the mode of 
celebrating the Twenty-ninth of May. The popular 
name “Oak-apple Day” was not used to the same 
extent, if at all, though the boys adhered to the spirit 
of the occasion, and enforced by well-known pains 
and penalties the duty of “sporting your oak.” From 
this observance none was exempt, but the way the 
day was kept had, nevertheless, an individuality of its 
own, which causes it to occupy in the Temple of Memory 
a niche all to itself. There appears to be a measure 
of doubt whether the custom was a genuine survival of 
the national rejoicings that welcomed the return of 
the Merry Monarch, or started early in the last century 
as an ancient usage come to life again. The old race 
of Blundellians certainly looked upon it as a practice 
that did not admit of a question as to its permanence. 
They did not perhaps trouble themselves much about 
its origin, nor was loyalty uppermost in their minds. It 
was local, it belonged to the school, and that was enough. 
Roughly speaking, the order of proceedings was as 
follows. The upper school was decorated with oak 
and transformed into a veritable forest, in the recesses 
273 18 


274 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


of which the boys ensconced themselves as best they 
could, the climax foreshadowed being the recitation 
by each boy of a piece of poetry, the selection of 
which was quite unfettered, if only a minimum of twenty 
lines was attained. For the boys, more than half 
the fun lay in the preparation. 

Soon after four o'clock in the morning, the drowsy 
sentinels who had been keeping the last watch began 
to wake their slumbering friends, and long before 
five o'clock some scores of half-dressed lads were 
sallying forth into the country in all directions, intent 
upon “picking and stealing” as much of their neigh- 
bours’ property as the limited time and nature of 
their weapons would permit. These last were some- 
what barbarous and uncouth. Lucky was the boy 
who had a hatchet or saw! A good bit of hoop-iron 
was a very Excalibur. But in spite of the inadequacy 
of their tools, the boys did a wonderful amount of 
damage. A fine oak sapling stood a sorry chance 
against a dozen pocket-knives, and he who had learnt 
to love his laurels often lived to lament their loss. 

It was rough work from a farmer’s, or his landlord’s, 
point of view. An Old Boy of about Temple’s standing 
thus describes his share in the nefarious goings-on. 
“Well, I never did anything wrong. Only once 
I stood under a may-tree on the Twenty-ninth of 
May, and we cut off some branches for decorating 
the school. Of course, I did not cut any; I only 
kept cave. At last I had to cry cave, for the farmer 
appeared. But he was on the other side of the canal, 
so we told him he need not trouble to come after 
us, as it was two miles by the nearest bridge, and we 
could easily get back to the school.” 


| 


SOME FESTIVALS 275 


The boys took with them a hand-cart on which to 
bring back their spoils, and some youngsters were 
generally pressed into the service to draw the vehicle 
to the “trysting-place.” When they had “rifled all 
the breathing spring” they returned, well-pleased with 
themselves, to the Green, where the work of placing 
the branches of oak in and out among the desks 
was carried out. The result was certainly good as a 
matter of effect, for the lofty schoolroom lent itself 
readily to the rude but luxuriant decorations. The 
final effort—jinzs coronat opus—was the selection of 
a branch that was to form a sort of canopy, under 
which the subsequent performances were to take place. 
Some one was found who was cunning to throw a stone; 
and this, with a string attached, was flung over the 
old beams. The aforesaid branch was then made fast, 
and the lower part being decorated with flowers, was 
hoisted up and left to hang some six feet above the 
floor. 

At eleven o’clock the headmaster solemnly entered 


and sat down at his desk, where he resembled Solomon 


in all his glory. The proceedings now began, the 
boys coming forward according to their seniority in 
the school. To some, especially beginners, it was 
very nervous work, and the fateful moment was much 
dreaded when the candidate had to emerge from his 
leafy bower, and, taking his stand under the improvised 
canopy, place the book of the words on the master’s 
desk. The “speaking,” or recitation, was, as might 
be expected, of very unequal merit, but there was 
seldom ‘any breakdown, the boys getting through their 
task nervously or otherwise. The “Burial of Sir John 
Moore” was the most popular piece. There was a 


276 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


tradition that it had been said twenty-six times at 
least, and the hero was committed to the earth, not 
silently, but amid tumultuous applause. 

“ Accidents,” quoth the proverb, “will happen in 
the best-regulated families,’ and, notwithstanding the 
general success of the scholars, the Blundell’s Feast 
of Tabernacles did not invariably pass without a 
hitch. One instance of failure was so exceptionally 
quaint and delightful that it became classical, and for 
long years continued to be quoted by the auditors as 
about the finest thing in remembrance. 

A certain gallant, not to say sentimental, youth 
hoped to make a great hit with a love-poem by Waller, 
beginning, 


Go, lovely rose! 
Tell her that wastes her time, and me, etc. 


He stepped into the arbour with modest grace, and 
slightly extending his hand towards the master, com- 
menced with fervour, 


Go, lovely rose! 


Then he paused, and began again slowly, and with 
less confidence and passion, 


Go, lovely rose! 


But his feelings were too much for him, and after 
once more repeating in doubtful and piteous acccents, 


Go, lovely rose! 


he went himself, his book being hurled after him. 
There is a variation of the story, perhaps even more 
piquant. Three times had the unfortunate “spouter ” 


SOME FESTIVALS 277 


begun his recitation, each time getting only as far as 
the exordium, when, the patience of the master being 
exhausted, the book was summarily returned, with the 
inevitable sarcasm delivered in a peremptory tone, 


Go, lovely rose! 


The situation was exquisitely comic, but the boys 
were too frightened to laugh outright. However, the 
“rosy ” complexion of the chief actor long after made 
his discomfiture on this occasion a joke amongst them. 

A cricket-match generally followed in the afternoon, 
and the day was wound up with“ games,” or “sports,” 
as they would be called now. This was before the 
age of “ records,” and the various events—some of them, 
at any rate—were primitive, if not rude, in their nature. 
Yet as a rule they were heartily contested, and the 
boys enjoyed them, as they did also the presence of 
friends and relations. These last they were proud to 
escort into the school, still in a state of transfiguration, 
and point out the scene of their triumphs, for such 
they felt them to be, though in most cases the retrospect 
was vastly more agreeable than the prospect had been. 
By the way, we omitted to mention one circumstance. 
The huge banch of oak suspended from the roof just 
over the “spouters” was cunningly dropped on the 
head of the last boy at the end of his recitation, unless 
he managed more cleverly to evade it. 

The same spirit of drollery was imported into the 
games, which began with jumping for “treaclers.” A 
line was extended between two of the lime-trees, and 
from this hung a number of buns. A certain quota 
of small boys contended as to which could devour 
a bun first. The competitors were dressed in their 


278 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


shirts and white ducks, and their hands were tied behind 
their backs. They had to catch the buns, as they 
bobbed up and down, in their mouths ; and, to assist 
them in their endeavour, the monitors, armed each 
with a cup of treacle and a feather, smeared the buns 
with the treacle to make them easier to swallow. But 
the feathers smeared also the faces of the ,unhappy 
boys, and by the time the bun was devoured the aspect 
of the jumpers was as amusing to the spectators as 
it was disagreeable to themselves. Somewhat similar 
to this event was another—dipping for coins in pans 
of water. The boys had to plunge in their heads and 
seize the rewards with their teeth; and the more 
clumsy competitors, particularly, were a source of vast 
enjoyment to the onlookers. 

From a strictly zsthetic point of view certainly 
nothing could have been better than the old school 
Green, with its grand rows of ancient lime-trees and the 
picturesque old building in the background, but when 
it came to the actual contests it was a different matter, 
and both the trees and the walls often proved a decided 
nuisance. The deficiencies of the Green were most 
felt in the flat races, so much so that in one or two 
years they were run on a separate day in the town 
cricket-ground. This arrangement, however, was found 
inconvenient, so soon afterwards they were brought 
back to the Green. 

The course for the mile was traditionally six times 
round the Green. One year an energetic sports com- 
mittee measured it, and discovered that an extra half 
round ought to be added to make it correct. However, 
considering that it was rather in the nature of an obstacle 
race, they need not have been so exact. There were 


q 
; 


SOME FESTIVALS 279 


often good runners, but it does not appear that the 
mile was ever run in what we should now consider 
good time. On the two sides of the Green the course 
lay between the trees and the walls, and the runners 
had a comparatively easy task in avoiding what, 
nevertheless, sometimes came to pass—z.e., being tripped 
up by the roots and broken branches. But in the 
part nearest the school buildings it led along one of 
those stone paths which are so curious a feature 
of the old Green. Often the chance of one of the 
competitors was ruined by a slip when rounding the 
corner on the pavement. Crossing the pavement in 
front of the porter’s lodge was also an unenviable 
incident in the race. In the quarter of a mile these 
objections were, if anything, more strongly realised. 

The hundred yards flat race likewise presented con- 
siderable difficulties. It was called a hundred yards 
by courtesy, for really it was impossible to get ‘a 
straight race of more than eighty. This was obtained 
by running from the bottom of the Green to the top 
(the school buildings). Directly at the end of the 
course was the pavement already mentioned, and 
behind it the buildings themselves, on which the whole 
mass of the runners would have precipitated themselves 
but for the living barrier of their friends, who gallantly 
stood in the way to stop them, truly at some personal 
risk. Indeed, the projecting buttresses were often 
the cause of accidents, and it was sardonically remarked 
that “the ghost of Peter Blundell was propitiated 
by a few bloody noses and cracked crowns on those 
stones, and against those walls, every year.” 

The other sports fared better, but there were two 
or three exceptions. The cricket-ball throwing was 


280 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


frequently a matter of dispute, from the trees im- 
peding the flight of the ball. The throwing was 
always from corner to corner, in order to get the 
longest range, but it rarely proved long enough. The 
ball usually knocked against the trees, and then 
the umpires had the pleasing task of determining 
whether the throw had to be counted to where the 
ball fell, or whether its subsequent parabolic course could 
be calculated from the point where it was stopped. A 
powerful but erratic thrower would often put himself 
completely out of it by throwing out of the direct 
line from corner to corner, and thus striking the 
trees earlier. 

Putting the weight had the peculiar fascination of 
being a little dangerous, not to the performers but 
to the spectators. In common with the jumps it was 
contested on the triangle. This grass-plot was always 
roped round for the games, the spectators standing 
outside it. Now, as the weight was always put from 
the base towards the apex of the triangle, there was 
not much space for the shot to fall on, and a strong 
cast, with some uncertainty of direction, would occa- 
sionally send it over the ropes to the side among 
the spectators, who had to scatter in a hurry to 
avoid broken bones. However, it may be doubted 
whether an accident ever occurred, and certainly the 
exercise did not appear so dangerous as “throwing the 
hammer,” about which there always seemed to be a 
possibility of letting it go at the wrong moment and 
braining one of the spectators. Still, the chance of 
meeting with the fate of Acrisius, grandsire of Perseus, 
must have added a decided zest to the enjoyment of 
the casual visitor at the school games. 


SOME FESTIVALS 281 


Now there is plenty of space and elbow-room at 
the athletic sports, and the only question is whether 
the superior dignity of the school could tolerate such 
items as the donkey-race, the sack-race, the three-legged 
race, and jingling. The donkey-race and jingling, 
at any rate, are things of the past, and, as regards 
the latter competition, there are plenty of persons who 
have not the least idea in what it consisted. The nature 
of the sport was as follows. A circle was formed, either 
by ropes or by the spectators joining hands; and in 
this ring stood from fifteen to twenty boys, blind-folded, 
and one other who was armed with a bell. With 
this he darted about as nimbly as he could, ringing 
it suddenly in the ears of his bewildered opponents, and 
then, muffling the bell with his hand, he sprang aside, to 
repeat the process with another group of blind men, 
they in their hopefulness making frantic attempts to 
grasp him, and in the effort not seldom tumbling over 
one another. 

So the game proceeded, until either the “bellman” 
was caught or a specified period of time had elapsed. 
The prize was taken by the bellman, if he succeeded 
in avoiding capture, but if, being too daring, he was 
caught, it fell to the boy (or boys) who had managed 
to lay hold of him. It was a primitive kind of sport, 
not productive of any particular skill, but demanding 
both alertness and resource in the holder of the bell, 
and providing some amusement in the helpless and 
and often comical attempts made by his blindfolded 
antagonists to secure their man. This form of sport 
was discontinued, we believe, at some time before 1860. 

The Twenty-ninth of May, indeed, has ceased to be 
observed almost entirely. Spouting was abolished long 


282 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


before the translation of the school to Horsdon, but 
the custom of decorating made fitful efforts to survive 
and root itself in the new premises. To suit the change 
from the two big rooms at Old Blundell’s to the many 
separate class-rooms of the new school, boys vied with 
each other in adorning their particular class-rooms. 
As before, oak was the mainstay of the decorations, 
but lilac and laburnum were not despised, considerably 
to the detriment of the neighbours. A famous occasion 
is well remembered, when eleven boys of Blundell’s 
sallied forth at the hour of three to fetch oak for the 
Twenty-ninth of May—we fancy, in the year 1883. 
No sooner had they commenced operations than they 
were surrounded by the minions of a local farmer, 
who held them in durance vile in a barn, until a 
message despatched through one of their number had 
brought back the ransom of a shilling per captive. This 
reverse did not damp the ardour of the Blundellians, 
and a few years later a measure was passed whereby 
no tree over six feet in length was to be conveyed in. 
However, even this compromise did not appease the 
wrath of the farmers, and the year 1890 saw the last 
of the decorations. 

“JT don’t know whether there are any here who 
remember the ‘P. B. holidays, but I shall never 
forget them, because they came quite unexpectedly. 
They were not in the regular order of things at all, 
and they are not now where they were then, because 
the school has been moved, and ‘P. B.’ is out of the 
reach of the Lowman. I don’t know whether it would 
be a very good thing if the Lowman were to rise 
so high as to cover the ‘P. B.’ in its present position ; 
but then it was a joy, and a joy which I still feel 


SOME FESTIVALS 283 


thrilling through me, to escape the lessons, for, after 
all, what are lessons to a good: holiday—especially to 
a holiday when you are fourteen years old, and when 
it is a holiday which is not given you by the head- 
master, but comes as it were by a gift of Providence. 
It has in it a very special kind of charm.” 

We quote from Dr. Temple’s speech at Tiverton in 
1900. The custom to which he alluded—very old and 
very quaint—was shortly this. Outside the old wall, 
in what was then a cobbled path, were white pebbles 
so arranged as to form the initials of the honoured name 
of the founder. Now, when the Lowman, in one of its 
periodical floods, spread out so as to submerge these 
ancient symbols, the boys were entitled, as a matter of 
immemorial usage, to a holiday. As the masters had . 
enough to do to attend to their threatened domiciles, 
already more or less under water, they never offered 
the faintest opposition to the tumultuous rush of the 
boys, who, on the fact becoming known, at once quitted 
their desks for the Green. 

There seems to be no earlier allusion to the custom 
than is found in a letter from which we have already 
quoted, dated March sth, 1818. “There is a little 
stream here,’ says the writer, “called the Lowman, 
which overflowed last night and inundated us all. The 
water was four inches deep in the schoolroom and hall, 
where we have our meals, and even made its way into 
Mr. Richards’ drawing-room, so that there is a little 
bustle here now. I mention this because it is an old 
rule of the school that, when the water rises to a certain 
mark, the boys are to have a holiday, which is the case 
to-day.” 

Tis an ill wind that blows nobody good; so, too 


284 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


twas an ill flood that failed to benefit the Blundellians. 
These “P. B’s.” did not occur so often as the boys would 
have liked—sometimes not more than once in the whole 
course of their school life. On one occasion—on a 
Sunday—the flood just fell short of the “P. B.,” and 
the boys all walked as usual to St. Peter’s, solemnly, 
two and two, “Sas” conducting them. The flood was 
nearly up to their knees, but they walked as steadily 
through it as if on dry pavement, and, as far as is 
known, none of them was the worse for sitting in church 
in his wet clothing. What master would dare to pro- 
pose such a thing in the present day? 

Blackmore’s description of a “P. B.,” like all his 
references to Blundell’s, is full of charm and piquancy. 

“ Other customs, no less worthy, abode in the school 
of Blundell, such as the singeing of night-caps; but 
though they have a pleasant savour, and refreshing 
to think of, I may not stop to note them, unless it 
be that goodly one at the incoming of a flood. The 
school-house stands beside a stream, not very large, 
called ‘Lowman,’ which flows into the broad river of 
Exe, about a mile below. This Lowman stream, 
although it be not fond of brawl and violence (in the 
manner of our Lynn), yet it is wont to flow into a 
mighty head of waters when the storms of rain provoke 
it ; and, most of all, when its little co-mate, called the 
‘Taunton brook’—where I have plucked the very 
best cresses that ever man put salt on—comes foaming 
down like a great roan horse, and roars at the leap 
of the hedgerows. Then are the grey stone walls of 
Blundell on every side encompassed, the vale is spread 
over with looping waters, and it is a hard thing for 
the day-boys to get home to their suppers. 


ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE’S NAME, CARVED WITH HIS OWN HAND WHEN 
A BOY ON THE WALL OF BLUNDELL’S SCHOOL. 


from a lithograph by Mrs. Boulton. 


THE PORTER'S LODGE OF THE OLD SCHOOL, 1831. 


SOME FESTIVALS 285 


“And in that time the porter, Old Cop (so called 
because he hath copper boots to keep the wet from 
his stomach, and a nose of copper also, in right of 
other waters), his place it is to stand at the gate, 
attending to the flood-boards grooved into one an- 
other, and so to watch the torrent’s rise, and not be 
washed away, if it please God he may help it. But 
long ere the flood hath attained this height, and 
while it is only waxing, certain boys of deputy will 
watch at the stoop of the drain-holes, and be apt 
to look outside the walls when Cop is taking a cordial. 
And in the very front of the gate, just without the 
archway, where the ground is paved most handsomely, 
you may see in copy-letters done a great P. B. of white 
pebbles. Now it is the custom and the law that when 
the invading waters, either fluxing along the wall from 
below the road-bridge or pouring sharply across the 
meadows from a cut called ‘Owen’s ditch’—and I 
myself have seen it come both ways—upon the very 
instant when the waxing element lips though it be 
but a single pebble of the founder’s letters, it is the 
licence of any boy, soever small and undoctrined, to 
rush into the great schoolrooms, where a score of 
masters sit heavily, and scream at the top of his voice 
oe B.’ 

“ Then, with a yell, the boys leap up, or break away 
from their standing ; they toss their caps to the black- 
beamed roof, and haply the very books after them ; 
and the great boys vex no more the small ones, and 
the small boys stick up to the great ones. One with 
another, hard they go, to see the gain of the waters 
and the tribulation of Cop, and are prone to kick 
the day-boys out with words of scant compliment. 


286 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


Then the masters look at one another, having no 
class to look to, and (boys being no more left to 
watch) in a manner put their mouths up. With a 
spirited bang they close their books, and make invi- 
tation the one to the other for pipes and foreign 
cordials, recommending the chance of the time, and 
the comfort away from cold water.” 

On the removal of the school to Horsdon, the stones 
composing the “great P. B.” were transferred thither, 
and re-laid in a prominent position in front of the 
tower. Ignorance of this fact and non-acquaintance 
with the site might cause the intelligent reader to 
miss the precise point of the Archbishop’s little joke. 
It would be something like a “ P. B.” that could ascend 
to the table-land whereon Blundell’s School now stands ; 
a miniature deluge would be necessary. 

The said removal was productive of a nice, and to 
the boys deeply interesting, question—namely, whether 
in the altered state of the case a holiday could still be 
claimed in the event of the Lowman doing its part 
towards its provision. On October 24th, 1882, the 
question took a practical form, for on that day the 
conditions were fulfilled by the uxorious river, with 
or without the approval of Jove, overflowing ‘its left 
bank. During the usual ten minutes break at 10.50 
the air was rent with frantic yells, such as the author 
of Lorna Doone would have loved to hear, and through 
all the corridors and passages trooped a horde of boys, 
shouting “P. B.” at the top of their voices, and claiming 
the ancient privilege of leaving the school at once. 

The ancient privilege was treated as so many ancient 
privileges have been, and work proceeded as usual. At 
noon, however, a deputation of sixth and fifth form boys 


—— 
.. 


SOME FESTIVALS 287 


went down to the old school, and having ascertained 
for themselves that the water was about four feet deep 
in front of the gates, reported the circumstance to 
the headmaster, and craved a half-holiday. The favour 
was granted, but with the reservation that it was not 
to be used as a precedent for similar concessions in 
the future. This was reasonable, as the floods only 
affected some of the day-boys, and in the twentieth 
and ensuing centuries even the day-boys will probably 
lose this delightful excuse for a holiday, for, with im- 
proved skill in engineering, the river has been taught 
better manners. 

Before the building operations at the new school 
were quite completed, and there being in consequence 
a good deal of mire and dirt in the approaches, some 
wag seized the opportunity of comparing this Slough 
of Despond to the old “P. B.,” and reproached the 
authorities in a dashing parody on “Ye Mariners 
of England.” 


A BALLAD 


Ye Governors of Blundell’s, 
Who, bare unto the knees, 

Have braved for nigh three hundred years 
The terrors of P. B.’s; 

Your brawny muscles bare again 
To match a filthier foe, 

And splash through the slush 
Where the footpaths ought to go; 

Where the mud is thick, and deep, and long, 
And the footpaths ought to go. 


The shades of dripping porters 
Seem to start at evry stride— 
Taunton Brook it was their ford of fame, 
And Lowman was their pride. 


288 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


Oh, for Folland, Mills, or Gibbons! 
As ye pant, and puff, and blow, 

While ye splash through the slush 
Where the footways ought to go; : 

Where the mud is deep, and dark, and long, 
And the footpaths ought to go, 


Young Blundell’s needs no flood-gates, 
She towers above the flood; 

Yet her march is o’er the muddy waves, 
Her home is on the mud. 

Old voices from her native oak 
Tell of the floods below, 

When P. B. sank beneath the surge 
Of the Lowman’s overflow ; 

And Blundell’s boys in the dear old Green 
Did their tubs and trundles row.! 


The meteor flag of Blundell’s 
Will wave with purer pride 

When this mass of mud is turned to turf, 
With pleasant paths beside. 

Then, then, ye marshy Governors, 
Our song and feast shall flow 

To the fame of your name, 
As we scamper to and fro ; 

When the watery waste is seen no more 
Where the pathways ought to go. 


A very Old Boy, writing of the period before 1848, 
has boldly identified Trustees’ Day (otherwise Speech 
Day) with the Twenty-ninth of May. A contempora- 
neous history of Tiverton by Colonel Harding, who was 
a very careful investigator and providentially examined 
this particular question, proves our ancient friend to 
have been mistaken. While the trustees did not always 


1 This actually occurred Dec. 1695; Oct. 12th, 1753; Nov. 30th, 
1865, and doubtless on many other occasions, 


——s 


SOME FESTIVALS 289 


sit, as they ought to have done, on St. Peter’s Day, 
and held their meeting at various times of the year, 
and sometimes (to their shame be it recorded!) not at 
all, they never, so far as can be ascertained, allowed 
their inspection to clash with the boys’ merry-making. 

Trustees’ Day was a whole holiday ; and as no motive 
was sufficiently strong to induce any one to turn out 
before half-past seven on a holiday, the first-fruits 
of the day was a lie-abed, with an occasional drawback 
for the small boys in the shape of a “bolstering,” if 
the big boys took a fancy to that amusement. There 
was no chance of gathering decorations. The scholars 
were penned within the gates, which were in charge 
of the inexorable janitor. On an ordinary holiday that 
official never opened the portals to any one before 
eleven o'clock, and on this particular day they were 
not opened till church-time. The boys had breakfast, 
and then mooned listlessly about the Green until they 
were summoned for church. Thither they marched 
in their wonted procession, and there from their gallery 
they gazed with awe upon the trustees—that august 
body—sitting together in the body of the building. 
After church came the speeches. 

The monitors spoke sometimes in monologue, and 
sometimes in dialogue, but never, according to the 
fore-named witness, with action of any sort. About 
three weeks before the day the monitor would notify 
to the smaller boys selected by the masters that they 
would have to speak. This was, in a sense, a com- 
pliment, because the speakers were chosen from the 
probable prize-takers ; but not many of them regarded it 
altogether in that light. Then came the selection of 
speeches. The house-seniors of the upper house had the 


19 


290 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


first choice by seniority ; then the house-seniors of the 
lower house, in the same way. 

And here sometimes arose great hardships, for if 
a boy, after selecting a speech, found it too difficult, 
he had a right to abandon it, and to take any other 
speech, even though it had been already chosen by 
a house-junior. The point may be illustrated by the 
following case. On his first and only speech-day a 
certain boy made an early selection of Wolsey’s speech 
to Cromwell, but that was speedily taken from him 
by a boy who was both house and school senior to 
him. He then selected “ Hohenlinden,” and just as 
he had worked it up so thoroughly that always “the 
sun was low,” and always “lay the untrodden snow,” 
and always, whether he was fishing for minnows up 
Lowman or for trout down Exe, “was the flow,” and so 
on, down swooped a house-senior but a school junior, 
who afterwards met a soldier’s death in battle, and 
carried off his piece. He marred it in the speaking, 
whereat the original possessor rejoiced, but there was 
no appeal, no redress. The terror of the big boys put 
everything of the sort out of the question, and the 
unfortunate victim had to begin anew within a few 
days of the event, and work up “Sleep, gentle sleep” 
from Henry IV. Nor was this an isolated case. Two 
or three such instances occurred on every speech-day. 

Reverting to Harding’s chronology, we find that from 
1764 to 1839 the trustees, with certain exceptions, met 
on St. Peter’s Day, that from 1840 to 1845 they as- 
sembled on August 21st, and that it was then considered 
desirable to return to St. Peter’s Day. What, it may 
well be asked, was the meaning of these dodges? 
We trust we may be pardoned the expression in 


=—— 


SOME FESTIVALS 2901 


speaking of dignitaries, but it is common knowledge 
that the same strict impartiality on the basis of merit 
did not obtain then as obtains now—that manceuvring 
sometimes took place in favour of particular candidates 
for scholarships. If a boy was obnoxious, or stood 
in the way of a school-fellow whom the masters or 
trustees, for any reason, preferred, there was a tolerably 
easy method of getting rid of him, and that was by 
superannuation. The trustees did not meet, or met 
late, and the boy became too old. 

But apart from this special motive, which, it is to 
be hoped, did not operate very often, there was the 
reason that the trustees—a very dignified body, some- 
thing like the House of Lords—were selfish or indolent 
enough to consult their own convenience; and, as re- 
gards the change from St. Peter’s Day to August 2rst, 
we have a shrewd idea that it was adopted in order 
to bring the date of their meeting into closer con- 
nection with that of Old Boys’ Day, which was itself 
connected with another meeting possessing considerable 
attractions for country gentlemen. 

In her Bygone Days in Devonshire and Cornwall, 
Mrs. Whitcombe ventures the assertion that this festival 
—Old Boys’ Day—originated about 1660. Asa matter 
of fact, it is very much older. From the Great Book 
of Accounts it appears that in 1618, 1620, 1621, and 
1622 the anniversary sermon was preached by the 
Rev. Hugh Chomley, so that instead of the custom 
arising at the Restoration, it is a fair conclusion that 
it is almost coeval with the school itself. The name 
of the preacher, at any rate, is reminiscent of its 
very earliest years. However, we know but little of 
the fixture until well on in the eighteenth century, 


292 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


when, as we have seen, Hogarth designed the dinner- 
ticket. 

The most important notice of the anniversary—it 
is by no means flattering—comes from the Journal 
of the Rev. John Wesley, who writes of the meeting 
in 1751. “There was a sermon preached at the Old 
Church before the trustees of the school. At half 
an hour past twelve the morning service began, but 
such insufferable noise and confusion I never saw 
before in a place of worship—no, not even in a Jewish 
synagogue. The clergy set the example, talking and 
laughing during the greater part of the prayers and 
sermon.” After making every allowance for the high 
spirits and hilarity proper to the occasion, we must 
confess that in a church this was carrying things rather 
too far; and we may congratulate ourselves on the 
reformation of manners that has since taken place. 
But Wesley’s troubles did not end here. A “ rabble of 
gentlemen’s servants,” in attendance on their masters, 
attempted to create a disturbance whilst he was preach- 
ing, but without much success. A posse of townsmen 
“undertook” them, and in a few minutes “scoured the 
streets” of them. 

A curious, and altogether regrettable, circumstance 
in relation to Old Boys’ Day is that for long periods 
it was allowed to lapse. Thus we find that in 1790 the 
custom was revived after an interval of thirty years ; 
and a similar lacuna occurs between 1850 and 1874. 
Nevertheless, there appears to have been no great 
variation in the order of proceedings. In 1790 “the 
stewards conducted the preacher to the desk;” and 
another difference from later usage is that the pro- 
cession wound its way along the pavements instead 


—— 


SOME FESTIVALS 293 


of appropriating the middle of the street. Possibly 
in Temple’s time this circumspect behaviour was still 
maintained. 

In those days the anniversary was held on the 
last Wednesday in August. The Old Boys met in the 
Green, and, as there was always a good deal of waiting 
about, the delay was utilised for renewing old friendships, 
and forming pairs for the walk to St. Peter's Church. 
When at length the visitors had identified and shaken 
hands with their contemporaries and others whom 
they knew, and everything was certified to be ready, 
a start was made in the following order : 


The Porter, in a long cloak of pale blue turned out with 
black velvet, and carrying a silver-headed mace. 
The Boys, two and two. 

Music. 

The Masters. 

The Old Boys. 

Any of the Trustees present. 

The Stewards. 

The President, the Preacher, and the Treasurer. 


The route lay through Bampton Street and Newport 
Street, while the return march was by way of St. Peter 
Street and Fore Street. The rest of the programme con- 
sisted of a dinner at the Tuns (or, as was afterwards the 
case, in the lower school), and a ball at the Angel (which 
was subsequently deserted for the Atheneum, now 
the School of Art). 

It has been suggested that this arrangement for 
benefiting each hotel in turn was due to a desire, in 
days when political feeling ran high and the “swells ” 
were not by any means confined to one side, that, as 
these places of entertainment were the headquarters 


294. EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


of opposing factions, all suspicion of partiality should 
be absent. We have nothing to urge against this 
theory, for it is certainly a fact that “Pam” and his 
predecessors located themselves at the Tuns and 
the other party at the Angel. But it may perhaps 
be recorded that, in the eighteenth century, Tiverton 
fashion held a fortnightly “assembly ” or dance at the 
Angel—probably in a large room at the back of 
the Town Hall; and the Old Blundellian festivities 
were doubtless modelled on this precedent. In an 
early notice of the anniversary it is regretted that 
no provision was made for the amusement of the 
boys. Until recent years, when the monitors gained 
admission to the luncheon, this rule continued to be 
strictly carried out, though we believe it was always 
open to the youngsters to obtain what crumbs of 
comfort could be got from listening to the speeches. 
Honestly, we cannot fancy that in Temple’s time 
much satisfaction was to be got from the oratorical 
performances of the Old Boys. Since the revival of 
‘the anniversary in 1874 a rather high standard of 
wit and wisdom has been attained, but in the “ forties,” 
we suspect, there was always too great a straining 
after stateliness, polish, and elegance. At-the same 
time we must acknowledge that the evidence on which 
this conclusion is based is not entirely to be depended 
on. The only report of such speeches that we have 
been privileged to peruse is contained in an account 
of Old Boys’ Day, 1850, which was more or less a 
funeral occasion. The trustees had been worsted in 
a law suit with Mr. Heathcoat and other prominent 
men of Tiverton, who had been determined to vindicate 
for the natives a monopoly of this noble heritage ; 


SOME FESTIVALS 2905 


and the boarders had received notice to quit. With 
them had departed good old “Sas,” and it was felt 
that the school was no more—no more, at any rate, 
what it had been formerly. So in 1850 the Old Boys, 
conscious that this was to be their last meeting, spoke 
under a heavy sense of sorrow and mortification. 

Whether Temple was present on this memorable 
occasion we cannot definitely state, but it is not 
improbable, since he remarked in 1900, “ I can remember 
two other things in the history of those days—the 
dinner, for instance, on the Blundell day, the dinner 
where all the Old Blundellians assembled and listened 
to one another’s speeches, and told each other stories 
of what had happened in the old school in their days. 
I didn’t, of course, dine at those dinners whilst I was 
at the school, but as soon as I had left the school 
I had the right of dining at those dinners, and I don’t 
think I missed the opportunity of doing so for some 
years, because to return and see my old schoolfellows 
was always delightful.” 

It has been stated that the last week in August 
was the period of the Blundell anniversary. That 
week was a time of social gatherings and festivities 
in the town. The Tiverton races, long one of the best 
known meetings in the West of England, were held 
at the same time, and, it is believed, were an outcome 
of circumstances belonging to the anniversary. When 
the anniversary dwindled, and finally ceased, the 
races also were given up, to be revived some years 
later under totally different auspices. This being the 
case, a description of the Tiverton races, as the pro- 
gramme was carried out in Temple’s time, may not 
be unwelcome. 


296 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


When first held they attracted sportsmen from near 
and far, and were, in fact, the great event of the year. 
The prizes to be competed for consisted not only of 
money, but of cups and goblets of large size and con- 
siderable value, being richly chased and of silver gilt. 
For a fortnight previous to the races every carpenter 
in the town was busily employed in erecting booths 
for the publicans, who expected to reap a rich harvest. 
The grand-stand, immediately in front of the winning- 
post, was a rather imposing structure. The front row 
of the balcony was reserved for the stewards and their 
friends, and access to the seats behind it, rising tier 
after tier, cost half a crown. Underneath the balcony 
luncheons and liquor of all kinds were supplied, and 
waiters were kept busy, especially between the events. 
In a line with the grand-stand and close to the course, 
but allowing space for the crowd of spectators, were 
six or eight other refreshment booths, with balconies 
over, the charge for a seat on which varied from a 
shilling to threepence according to their distance from 
the grand-stand and the winning-post. On the opposite 
side of the course, facing the stands, was a long row 
of carriages, from the aristocratic four-in-hand of the 
Hon. Newton Fellowes to the humble trap of the 
farmer and tradesman. Immediately adjoining the 
grand-stand was an enclosed space, where the weighing 
took place and the jockeys received their final in- 
structions from the owners of the horses they were 
to mount. 

Of the races themselves we need give no account, 
for with the lapse of years such details have ceased 


to be interesting. At the time, however, one of the 


events caused more than ordinary excitement—namely, 


: 


From a lithogrephtby Mrs, Boulton\ 


OLD BLUNDELL’S ; INTERIOR OF THE UPPER SCHOOL, 1831. 


SOME FESTIVALS 297 


a hurdle race, in which the horses were mounted by 
gentleman riders. Two well-known local men—Mr. 
Worth, of Worth, and Mr. T. Rendell, a solicitor—were 
particularly fond of distinguishing themselves in this 
way. The hadctuds of the races were favoured with 
visits by professors of the noble art of self-defence, 
who had a large tent to themselves; and between 
the heats some amusing gentlemen entertained them 
by means of a small table and thimbles. Gipsies, 
of course, were en évidence, as were also nigger 
minstrels. Tiverton races occupied two days, and 
on each evening a “race dinner” took place at 
one of the hotels. A “race ball,” too, was largely 
patronised. 

Old Blundellians now meet on St. Peter’s Day, 
but there is a by-meet in London during the Christmas 
holidays for the convenience of those who may find 
a difficulty in being present at the reunion in Devon- 
shire. A contributor to the blunxdellian, giving August 
26th as the old date of the anniversary, asks why 
this day was chosen. “I have a sort of fancy—it is 
little more—that it was Peter Blundell’s birthday. 
Whether the accuracy of this can be tested we 
know not.” Apparently not, as regards the precise 
date of Peter Blundell’s birthday; but the writer, 
whoever he may have been, was certainly wrong with 
respect to the anniversary, which was a movable 
feast. 

Still, the suggestion is not entirely to be discarded, 
for it may be that, at the time this period of the year 
was selected, more was known of Blundell than was 
the case later. In the old days, as was shown by 
the toast of the evening, the dominant note was one 


298 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


of gratitude to Peter Blundell. This is exemplified 
by the opening sentences in a speech by the Rev. 
H. F. Yeatman. 

“Mr. Vice-President and Gentlemen, I rise to propose 
a toast, which must be considered to be, beyond all 
doubt, the toast of the evening ; and especially because 
that toast is connected with the great object of our 
meeting in this place, that object being to do homage 
to the memory of our immortal founder, the illustrious _ 
Peter Blundell.” 

And, having wrought up the feelings of his audience 
to the highest pitch of enthusiasm, he concludes: 
“With these sentiments I have the honour to propose 
to you ‘The Immortal Memory of Peter Blundell.” 
After the resuscitation of Old Boys’ Day in 1874, 
the leading thought, as was not unnatural after a 
long spell of depression, was the renown and prosperity 
of the school rather than the clarum et venerabtle nomen 
of the founder. The toast of the evening or afternoon 
now changed to Floreat Schola Blundellina; but although 
this has been proposed many times, we cannot find 
any speech based on this text which soars upwards, 
and, as Horace says, strikes the firmament, as does 
that of Mr. Yeatman, a real Chatham among Blun- 
dellians. Perhaps, after all, poetry is a better vehicle 
for expressing these emotions than the most passionate 
prose; we will therefore quote a couple of stanzas 
from a poem by an Old Blundellian too modest to 
append his signature: 


Thou of old by riverside, 
Where the shallow waters flow, 

By whose walls did Lowman glide, 
Thou, whom Horsdon now doth know, 


SOME FESTIVALS 299 


Hail, wherever thou may’st go, 
Where the clust’ring rushes mat, 

Where the higher breezes blow— 
Blundellina floreat / 


Yet the ancient walls abide, 
Yet the hoary lime-trees grow, 
Murmur there on ev’ry side 
Honey-laden breezes low. 
What tho’ we have gone therefro’, 
From the halls where once we sat 
Not is changed the pray’r, we trow, 
Blundellina floreat ! 


In connection with the older toast may be mentioned 
a very ancient custom said to date from the foundation 
of the school. Every Saturday morning, after school, 
the school monitor for the week stands forth and 
recites a triple prayer, comprising the Pater Noster, 
a thanksgiving, and the benediction, all in Latin. The 
whole runs as follows : ; 

Pater noster, qui es in coelis, sanctificetur nomen 
tuum, adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut 
in coelis, sic etiam in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum 
da nobis hodie, et remitte nobis debita nostra, sicut 
et nos remittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos 
inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo, quoniam 
tuum est regnum, et potentia, et gloria per secula 
seculorum. 

Gratias agimus tibi, Domine Deus, quod nos hoc 
loco studii et pietatis et litterarum munificentia Petri 
Blundelli piae memoriae educamur. Teque rogamus 
pro tua summa misericordia, ut cum nos hoc tanto 
beneficio adjuti in laudem tui nominis profecerimus, 
beatae resurrectionis aeternaeque felicitatis praemia 
consequamur, per Jesum Christum Dominum nostrum. 


300 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


Gratia Domini nostri, Jesu Christi, et caritas Dei 
Patris, et communicatio Spiritus Sancti sint semper 
cum omnibus nobis. Amen 

The middle petition may be thus rendered : 

We thank thee, O Lord God, that, through the 
bounty of Peter Blundell of pious memory, we are 
being educated in this place of study, piety, and learning. 
And we beseech Thee of Thine exceeding mercy that 
when, assisted by this great benefit, we have profited 
to the praise of Thy name, we may obtain the rewards 
of a blessed resurrection and everlasting felicity, through 
Jesus Christ, Our Lord. 


CHAPTER XIII 
AT OXFORD 


ETER BLUNDELL left directions in his will that 
in case the tale of a hundred and fifty scholars, 
which he fixed as the full complement, could not be 
made up of natives of Tiverton, the deficiency might 
be supplied from children of “foreigners.” In order, 
however, that this privilege might be obtained, applica- 
tion had to be made to ten householders for their 
“assent and allowance”; and apparently it was neces- 
sary to repeat the performance whenever a foreigner 
desired to stand for one of the school scholarships or 
exhibitions. Temple himself said: 

“Tt was the rule at the time—I don’t know whether 
it is the rule still—that any boy who wanted to be 
a candidate for an exhibition or scholarship at the 
school had, if his father were not residing within the 
limits of the borough, to obtain the consent of ten 
householders, and I went round to ten householders in the 
town and said that I wished very much to bea candidate 
for the scholarship to be given that year, which was so 
much to me—the year 1838—and I found that there 
were ten householders who were quite willing to sign 
my certificate, and on the strength of the certificate I 

gor 


302 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


was admitted to the examination, and eventually won 
a scholarship.” 

Temple might well say “ eventually,” for it is certain 
that his election was not by any means a foregone 
conclusion. A strong local candidate was in the field 
against him, and this local candidate had been promised 
the powerful support of old Lord Rolle. All this 
was known to a friend of the Temples—we are not 
at liberty to disclose his name—and he made it his 
business to canvass the trustees on behalf of the 
foreigner. In the final reckoning Temple was elected 
solely by the casting vote of Sir Thomas Acland. 

We may now allow him to resume his own story. 

“T did not leave school at once. I won the scholar- 
ship in the summer, and I returned to the school, 
and was there until the Easter of the following year, 
and then I went to college straight from the school. 
I was then, I am afraid, a little ignorant of how one 
ought to do things. I set off for college without any 
summons from the master to go and be matriculated, 
and I forgot altogether to ask the clerk of the trustees 
to give me the certificate that I had got the scholarship 
at all. 

“So I appeared at Balliol College as a very erratic 
sort of person. The master of the college, after 1 had 
been examined, said, ‘I’m afraid, Mr. Temple, I shall 
find you a very careless young man among my under- 
graduates when you begin in this careless sort of way. 
The tutors have represented the matter to me, and 
they are very desirous after the examination you have 
passed you should be matriculated at once, but, without 
that, I am afraid you would have had your journey 
and the expense of your journey all for nothing. I 


: 
’ 
; 


AT OXFORD 303 


hope you will send us a proper certificate as soon 
as you possibly can?’ But the headmaster down here 
at Blundell’s had found out that I had gone without 
the certificate, and he sent it by post.. It reached me 
about ten minutes before the master at the college 
had said this to me, and I handed it to him direct. 
He said, ‘ Was it a mistake? Did you bring it?’ And 
so I said, ‘ No, sir, I didn’t bring it; it was sent to me 
by post. The headmaster found out that I hadn't 
got it, and he sent it after me, and it has come this 
morning.’ He said,‘ Well, you’re honest ; you confessed 
that you were careless,’ 

“ And so I was matriculated, and I didn’t come off 
with very flying colours, but I had got the Balliol 
scholarship, and I found out it was a very considerable 
advantage to me, because without the scholarship I 
am sorry to say it would not have been possible for 
me to go to college at all. My father had died a 
little while before, and my mother was not able to 
send me to college, and so I had rather a hard time 
of it—a very hard time of it in the way of impecuniosity, 
which I suppose there are a good many of you under- 
stand very well.” 

It is remarkable that the man who preceded Temple 
in the rooms he was to occupy at Balliol was George 
Hadow, whom he was destined to meet again as one 
of the rectors of Tiverton at the time when he was 
himself Bishop of Exeter. In those early days it 
appears to have been the rule for a freshman, on 
coming into residence, to take over the furniture at a 
valuation ; and I recollect Mr. Hadow telling me that, 
owing to his poverty, Temple was unable to follow 
the usual course. He went through the rooms seeing 


304 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


what articles he could dispense with, and saying, “I 
don’t think I shall require this; I don’t know that I 
want that.” Hadow was a good specimen of muscular 
Christianity, besides being singularly handsome. In his 
youth he knocked down a highwayman, who attempted 
to rob him on Salisbury Plain, and marching him off 
to the nearest police-station, gave him in custody. 

According to Mr. Dant, Temple about this period 
underwent a course of instruction in boxing, learning 
from a professor of the art how to strike and ward 
with both hands. One would have thought his training 
at Blundell’s quite sufficient for ordinary purposes, but 
the fact of his being ambidexter was of considerable 
service in helping him to avenge a particularly cowardly 
assault. At Balliol, as at every other college, there 
is always an element of high-spirited, but not very 
sensible, young men who are constantly on the look-out 
for opportunities of punishing and tormenting “smugs.” 
We could, an we would, relate some choice instances 
that came under our own observation. Well, certain 
of these practical jokers, having fixed on Temple as 
a suitable victim, dug a pit in some sandy ground 
and buried him up to the chin. It was a good while 
before the Devonshire lad could extricate himself, and 
in the meantime his assailants watched his efforts with 
infinite glee and occasional bursts of explosive laughter. 
They found, however, that they had caught a Tartar. 
No sooner was he free and on his feet than he addressed 
himself to the task of chastising the bullies, felling 
them one after another until he had inspired them 
and their likes with a wholesome respect for his prowess 
and physical capabilities. 

But Temple won also the unstinted admiration of 


AT OXFORD 305 


a widely different set—those, that is to say, who were 
apt to follow Dr. Watts’ advice and measure people 
by their minds. Among the contemporaries at Balliol 
was Shairp, a Snell exhibitioner, who afterwards became 
Professor of Poetry at Oxford, but was best known 
as Principal Shairp of St. Andrews. This refined 
scholar and poet published in Macmzllan’s Magazine 
some thirty stanzas wherein he lauded the “ Balliol 
Scholars, 1840-3.” Arthur H. Clough, J. D. Coleridge, 
Matthew Arnold, James Riddell, and others are suc- 
cessively passed in review, and then he proceeds to 
glorify Temple, who outlived them all, and in moral 
force, if not in intellectual attainment, was equal to 
the best : 


There too was one, broad-brow’d, with open face 

And frame for toil compacted. Him with pride 
A school of Devon from a rural place 

Had sent to stand those chosen ones beside; 
From childhood train’d all hardness to endure, 
To love the things that noble are and pure, 

And think, and do, the truth, whate’er betide. 


With strength for labour “as the strength of ten,” 
To ceaseless toil he girt him night and day, 
A native King and Ruler among men, 
Ploughman or Premier, born to bear true sway, 
Small or great duty never known to shirk, 
He bounded joyously to sternest work; 
Less buoyant others turn to sport and play. 


Comes brightly back one day. He had perform’d 
Within the school some more than look’d for feat, 

And friends and brother-scholars round him swarm’d; 
To give the day to gladness that was meet, 

Forth to the fields we fared—among the young, 

Green leaves and grass his laugh the loudest rung, 
Beyond the rest his bound flew far and fleet. 


20 


306 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


All afternoon o’er Shotover’s breezy heath 
We ranged, through bush and brake instinct with Spring. 
The vernal dream light o’er the plains beneath 
Trailed, overhead the skylarks carolling, 
Then home through evening shadowed fields we went, 
And filled our college rooms with merriment, 
Pure joys, whose memory leaves no sting. 


Those who are inclined to connect the hegemony 
of Balliol with the rule of Scott and Jowett, brilliant 
scholars, will feel a shock of surprise on being told that 
the real author of that long unquestioned supremacy 
in the field of scholarship, and in the production of 
successful men at the bar, in politics, in the public 
services, in literature and the Church, was neither one 
nor the other, but the “old Master,’ Dr. Jenkyns, 
who, though no great scholar, was an uncommonly 
shrewd and capable man of business, as well as a most 
competent and penetrating judge of character. What 
Dean Lake, a typical pupil, says regarding his brother- 
scholars is sufficient testimony to Jenkyns’ remarkable 
talent as an “organiser of victory.” 

“ Between 1831 and 1841 the majority of the scholars 
had an almost unbroken series of successes in their 
after lives, as well as at Oxford, numbering among 
them two Archbishops of Canterbury, two Lord Chief 
Justices, and two Cabinet Ministers (one being leader 
of the House of Commons), besides two eminent poets 
in Arthur Clough and Matthew Arnold, with the 
distinguished careers of Stanley, Goulburn, and the 
late Master of Balliol.” 

Notwithstanding his statesmanlike qualities, the old 
Master, like many other clever men, especially in the 
academic world, was not exempt from certain eccen- 
tricities. It has ever been the fate of pedants to be 


guia eas 


AT OXFORD 307 


laughed at by those who have breathed a larger atmo- 
sphere, and whose angularities have been smoothed 
by contact with society ; and no man was ever more 
alive to the weak points of his associates than Dr. 
Jenkyns. Himself a born actor and mimic, he not 
only “spotted” their peculiarities, but possessed a most 
dangerous gift of imitating them. Jenkyns, however, 
knew how far to go, and was able to confine his ex- 
hibitions within the limits of good taste and good 
feeling. What added most of all to the startling effect 
of his mimicry was the fact that he was short-sighted, 
and, to all appearance, took but little notice of 
people. 

Jenkyns had an inveterate prejudice against Blundell’s 
scholars and fellows. They being, so to speak, forced 
upon him, he was disposed to rail against them as 
“white elephants,’ and to treat them as pariahs, when- 
ever and wherever that was possible. Talking one day 
in a drawing-room of a certain member of the college, 
and a namesake, he observed in a tone of the deepest 
disparagement, “Ah, yes, he spells his name with 
an ‘i, and zs a Blundell fellow.” At length one of these 
despised fellows, the Rev. Lewis (afterwards Canon) 
Owen, determined to have it out with him. At the 
time Jenkyns had taken his degree, the “honours” 
examination had not yet been instituted. This gave 
Owen his chance. “Well, Master,” he said, “did you 
obtain your appointment by open competition, and 
did you take honours? I can tell you that there has 
never been amongst the Blundell fellows either a 
Romanist or an atheist, or one who has brought 
disgrace on school or college.” (This remark was 
specially aimed at W. G. Ward.) 


308 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


After that the “old Master” treated Owen with 
increased respect, but no less kindness, and was careful 
what he said about Blundell fellows in his presence. 
It is to be feared, however, that his general opinion 
remained the same, and affected his attitude towards 
nearly all the Devonshire men, with the possible 
exception of Temple. 

“In my own days,” he said, “it was just the time 
when the other schools were beginning to grow to ~ 
such a degree—Eton, Rugby, and Harrow—as to put ~ 
these smaller country schools a great deal into the : 
shade. I can remember that when I was at college, — 
the master of the college—a remarkable man in his 
own way, and a very good master—rather used to 
look down on the Blundellians. He used to say queer 
things about us, and to wish that we could be got 
rid of altogether in some form. I remember his saying 
to myself just after I had taken my degree that the 
Blundell scholars had very great advantages, inasmuch 
as they came up very inferior men into the society 
of very superior men; and some of them, he said, 
were improved, and others not. 

“I suppose he intended it as a sort of compliment 
to me, because he was not uncivil or unkind at bottom, 
and he meant to imply that I might, if I thought fit, 
take it to myself that I had been in some degree 
improved by having come from Blundell’s School to 
Balliol College. Nor shall I ever undervalue all that 
I obtained there, but that will not lead me, nevertheless, 
to undervalue all that I got here [at Tiverton]—all 
the good teaching that I certainly did not appreciate 
as I have learnt to appreciate it since; and not only 
so, but the very means of going to Balliol College, 


AT OXFORD 309 


because had I not obtained a scholarship here I should 
not have been able to go there.” 

This recalls to us an anecdote related by Temple 
at a Balliol “gaudy” in 1897, held especially in his 
honour. One day he was standing in the quadrangle, 
when the master threw up his study window and 
invited him to step up. In the study he took him 
aside, and laying a hand on his shoulder, said, “ Mr. 
Temple, I am your master, and you know I have a 
right to be kind,’ at the same time slipping a ten- 
pound note into Temple’s hand. “It was impossible 
to refuse,” said the Archbishop, adding with character- 
istic candour, “I was at the time so desperately poor 
that I had serious thoughts of going down altogether.” 
That ten-pound note may be said to have made history. 

On another occasion Temple confessed, “When I 
went to college, I was rather what you would call 
an unformed scholar, but I passed through college 
with some measure of success, because I worked very 
hard and never lost my good spirits.” Some measure! 
In point of fact, he took a double first in classics and 
mathematics. The examination was marked by some 
interesting circumstances. Tom Clarke had gone up 
to Trinity in 1840, when, as there was yet no railway, 
he had slept at Bath and reached Oxford by coach 
next evening. Blundellians held together in those day, 
as they did later; and Clarke gave occasional wine 
parties, to which Temple was invited and went. He 
never, however, drank any wine, giving as his reason that 
if he did so he could not read six hours a day. Clarke 
was anxious to see the result of all this reading; so, 
when Temple was examined for his degree, he stationed 
himself in the gallery and observed the proceedings. 


310 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


Never, he declares, will he forget what happened. His 


friend sat at a table and argued out a point with the 
examiner, until the latter was fain to remark, “ Stop 
a minute, Mr. Temple, whilst I consult my colleagues.” 
So saying, he rose and left the hall. After a while he 
re-appeared, and turning to his opponent, observed 


pleasantly, “ You are quite right, Mr. Temple; please 


go on.” 

Mr. Clarke cannot remember the name of this exa- 
miner, but one of the examiners in Temple’s year 
was the late Canon Dayman, and in the early “eighties” 
we remember hearing him testify in public to the im- 
mense impression made on the minds of himself and 
his colleagues by the young man’s papers. 

Edward Arthur Dayman belonged to a family of 
six clever sons, and was at Blundell’s from 1815 to 
1826, when he was elected to a scholarship at Exeter 
College. He took a first class, and stayed on at the 
college as fellow and tutor, until, in 1842, he accepted 
the living of Shillingstone, in Dorset. For forty-eight 
years he served this secluded parish, where he loved 
to talk of his Oxford days and the giants of the 
common rooms. All this time he maintained his in- 
terest in his old school, and was seldom absent on Old 
Boys’ Day. So learned and able a man could scarcely 
escape making some contribution to literature, and 
in conjunction with Lord Nelson and the then Bishop 
of Ely, Mr. Dayman edited the Savum Hymnal, which 
was published in 1868. Afterwards he collaborated 
with Canon Jones in editing The Statutes and Customs 
of the Cathedral Church of Salisbury, of which, by the 
way, he had been appointed prebendary and canon. 

One of the most striking incidents in his career 


: 
: 


AT OXFORD 311 


yet remains to be told. In the Zzmes’ report of the 
funeral of Prince Henry of Battenberg it was stated 
that a hymn of unknown authorship, chosen by the 
Princess Beatrice from her private hymn-book, was 
sung in Whippingham Church, the first stanza being, 


Sleep thy last sleep, 
Free from care and sorrow; 
Rest where none weep, 

Till the eternal morrow. 


The words of this hymn were from the pen of 
Temple’s friend and examiner. Canon Dayman—a 
noble-hearted, genial, courteous gentleman—died in 
December, 1890, and was laid to rest in the quiet 
churchyard of Shillingstone. 

Temple’s success in the schools was more than 
sufficient to assure his election to a Blundell fellowship, 
for which a second class qualified, and he had gained 
two firsts. Of his life as a tutor we cannot glean 
much, but it is related, as a matter of tradition, that 
Temple used to illustrate his lectures on Euclid with 
his college-cap, the cap proper serving for circles and 
the “mortar-board” for squares and parallelograms. 
We were told also by the late Mr. Carew that he 
often saw Temple (who, as fellow, had soared quite 
beyond his mark, and was now an important man) 
walking with W. G. Ward. Ward was generally known 
to the donnish community as the “ Ideal Ward,” because 
he had written a portentous volume entitled Te [deal 
Church, in which he made a great point of the rela- 
tions between the conscience and the intellect. Pro- 
bably Ward exercised more or less influence over 
Temple, although not with the result of diverting him 


312 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


into the Tractarian fold. Manning had been at Balliol, 
and Ward was quite as advanced. In fact, Newman 
sent him perplexed novices, like Lockhart, for guidance 
and advice. This particular disciple records how 
one day he went by appointment to see Ward at Balliol, 
and how Ward took him for a walk. “I think we 
talked for three hours, walking round and round the 
parks beyond Wadham College. In the end I found 
myself without an answer, thoroughly puzzled, but 
unconvinced.” Neither, it would seem, was Temple 
convinced, in spite of his walks and talks with his 
“ideal” mentor. 

Temple’s resignation of his fellowship took place 
under circumstances entirely creditable to him. In 
1848, after six years’ tenure of it, he was appointed 
Principal of Kneller Hall, then a training college for 
elementary teachers. In this position he might be 
considered well provided for, but he was under no 
immediate necessity to give up his fellowship. In 
1849, however, appeared the name of William Charles 
Salter as Blundell fellow in succession to the Rev. 
Frederick Temple, and it was only by Temple’s kind- 
ness in promptly resigning his fellowship that his old 
schoolfellow escaped the fate of superannuation. 

When the Rev. Donald Owen went to Oxford as 
Blundell’s scholar, by a strange accident he was placed 
for two nights in Temple’s vacant rooms. Temple 
had by that time left the college, but his books and 
furniture were still in his rooms. Among the things 
pointed out to young Owen as being associated with 
Temple was an oil lamp at the head of the staircase, 
which was kept alight every night by the college 
authorities. This was the lamp by which Temple 


AT OXFORD 313 


used to finish his reading by night, when he resided 
there as a scholar from Blundell’s. After that, when- 
ever Dr. Temple came down to the college, he never 
forgot the tie which bound the scholar to the fellow, 
and the fellow to the scholar. 

When he had gone to Kneller Hall, he often re- 
visited Oxford and dined in the Balliol common-room. 
On one such occasion a discussion arose with regard 
to a prayer-book prepared by the Prince Consort and 
intended to unite into a single great church the Pro- 
testants of England. The Prince, through Count Bunsen, 
sent down the book to Max Miller, and requested 
him to take the sense of the University as to its ac- 
ceptibility. In the general talk on the subject several 
took part—Jenkyns, Woolcombe, Palmer, Regdell, and 
others—but Temple kept silent, and his example was 
followed by the Rev. Donald Owen, now junior fellow. 
One suggested that the Thirty-nine Articles should 
be jettisoned, another the omission of the Athanasian 
Creed, and a third the less frequent repetition of the 
Lord’s Prayer. 

At length the conversation ended, and, the other 
fellows having filed out, Owen found himself alone 
with Temple. “ Well,” remarked the elder, in his bluff, 
kindly tone, “you have said nothing. Have you no 
views on the prayer-book?” “Yes,” was the reply, 
“and strong ones.” “What are they?” Owen stated 
them, and then stopped Temple, as the latter was 
leaving the room, by demanding zs opinions, which 
were not withheld. As the communication was of 
a private nature, and designed only for his own ear, 
Mr. Owen has never felt at liberty to repeat what was 
said on this occasion. He, however, affirms that, having 


314 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


been all his life a close observer of Temple’s career, 
he can conscientiously state that there was nothing 
in his attitude towards ritual or ritualists, at Exeter, 
in London, or at Canterbury, conflicting in the least 
degree with the views formed and expressed at this 
early period of his official responsibility. 

We have already reached, and indeed overstepped, 
the chronological limits which we assigned to ourselves 
in planning this work, and we certainly do not intend 
to recapitulate or judge the later phases of this great 
man’s career. Still, we are tempted to record one more 
of those omens which, as we find from Plutarch, are 
inseparable from the lives of all illustrious persons, 
and of which we have already given examples in that 
of our subject. Temple’s first visit to Rugby occurred 
when he had just gone in for the examinations which 
gave him his double first, and within a month of Arnold’s 
death. He walked over from Oxford with his knapsack 
—forty-eight miles—in the day; and meant to walk 
back the next day, but Arnold liked him, and de- 
tained him. 

When Temple, nearly sixteen years after, came to 
Rugby as headmaster, he scandalised the bourgeois 
mind by walking from the railway station carrying his 
own bag, but within a month he held the masters 
and boys in his hand. When the turmoil arose over 
Essays and Reviews, to which Temple had con- 
tributed a harmless essay, the mother of a boy, now 
a Cabinet Minister, cautioned him against false doctrine, 
and received from her son the assurance, “Temple’s 
all right, but if he turns Mohammedan, the whole school 
will turn Mohammedan.” The Dean of Wells (Dr. 
Jex-Blake), who worked under Temple for eleven years, 


AT OXFORD 315 


said on the occasion of his death that during that period 
it never struck him, though it did afterwards, that he 
was sometimes rough. On the other hand, he expressed 
high appreciation of the courage, justice, devotion to 
duty, and forgetfulness of self, which, he said, charac- 
terised the late primate. 


CHAPTER iy 
AS OLD BOY AND GOVERNOR 


E have already hinted that a calamity was 
preparing for Blundell's School in consequence 
of the outrageous treatment of the day-boys by the 
boarders. Soon after Temple’s departure from the 
school the oppressed and indignant townspeople found 
a champion in Mr. Heathcoat, the inventor of a new 
process in lace-making, who had acquired the factory 
at Tiverton and now represented the borough in 
Parliament. The evil, it was thought, was too deep- 
seated for temporary or half-measures, and legal pro- 
ceedings were instituted, with a view to the complete 
abolition of boarders and the restoration of the school 
to its supposed primitive status—that of a purely local 
charity school. In the end these efforts bore fruit, and 
in October, 1846, the Vice-Chancellor of England pro- 
nounced a ruinous decree prohibiting the masters from 
receiving fees on account of any boys educated at the 
school, excluding boarders, and declaring the charity 
boys to be alone eligible for scholarships and exhibi- 
tions. 

The effect of this decision was immediately apparent. 
Mr. Sanders resigned, and the boarders having perforce 
to quit the school or qualify as day-boys, took the 

316 


‘AVG LNUSHMa “STOOTHOS S/TIMAN 1TH 


‘mojy sig Ky “Ew 4&9 0104q 


AS OLD BOY AND GOVERNOR 317 


former alternative. The Rev. J. B. Hughes, the lower 
master, elected to remain, and received the appointment 
of headmaster. Not that he approved the revolutionary 
change, as may be seen from a speech delivered in 
later years, in which he described the thinly-populated 
appearance of the two big school-rooms by a happy 
quotation—* Rari nantes in gurgite vasto.” it was, 
indeed, a veritable cataclysm. 

Temple’s great service to Blundell’s as Old Boy and 
Governor was that he strove hard to undo this huge 
mischief. That Mr. Heathcoat’s intentions were of the 
best, and that the youth of the town had been subjected 
to intolerable persecution, cannot be' called in question, 
but a less heroic remedy might have been found, and 
looking at the matter from our present standpoint, 
and with our present experience, the step seems suicidal. 
Instead of dwelling on the graver aspects of this 
unfortunate quarrel, we prefer to reproduce one of the 
facetious productions to which the controversy gave 
birth. Blundellians, old and young, can appreciate 
humour ; and so, we suspect, they, as well as the general 
public, will-peruse with unmixed enjoyment a delightful 
“retort courteous ” to one of themselves who had signed 
himself “ A Grateful Son,” and, in that sense, had been 
on the side of the angels. 


“MY DEAR SIR,— 

“Tam quite disposed to pay a most deferential 
attention to your handbill of the 17th instant, partly 
because I think it probable from your superior wisdom 
that you may have had some considerable connection 
with Blundell’s School, and because I think that you 
have made the ablest, and indeed the only, defence 


318 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


that any man could make of the present condition of 
that venerable establishment. 

“ Let me come at once to the gist of your argument. 
You say that you had always been led to suppose that 
Blundell intended to establish a boarding-school as well 
as a day-school, and that you are borne out in this 
opinion by his will. You very properly instance his 
directions as to a hall and buttery and kitchen, with one 
fair great chimney and an oven ; a convenient garden and 
woodyard, a strong wall round the whole and an entrance 
gate; and you infer that accommodations so ample 
as these could be intended exclusively for the master’s 
private family—that he could not and ought not to want 
them, since at their first erection, when boarders were 
plenty and natives were scarce, they were fully sufficient 
for the purposes of a boarding-school. 

“Now I will maintain you to be correct in all these 
conclusions. I assert that the master, with his wife 
and seven or eight children and a servant, could have 
had no occasion for those three ‘fit and convenient’ 
chambers—that one or two, at most, was quite enough 
for the whole of them, and the other sufficiently com- 
modious for the stowage of five or six score foreigners. 
I contend with you that the chamber windows were 
never fitted up with ‘iron bars,’ or the premises sur- 
rounded with a ‘strong wall, to prevent the master 
from getting out, but, I should rather think, were 
designed to prevent the poor simple natives from 
getting in. As this, however, has been accomplished 
by other laudable means, I would go on to observe 
that one fair great chimney—and an oven, too!—for 
a man, his wife, and family must have been perfectly 
monstrous. It must have been intended for a boarding- 


. 
| 
: 
. 


AS OLD BOY AND GOVERNOR 319 


school. It is evident that Blundell meant that the 
master should keep his woodyard well stocked, and 
that the boarders, whether fifty or a hundred, should 
in the cold winter evenings con over their books in 
the great chimney corner, whilst those who might 
be incommoded for want of room should make them- 
selves comfortable in the oven. Blundell, who was a 
man of the kindest heart, thus provided for the comforts 
of the boarders both upstairs and down; although I 
wonder hew the master, who was cautioned against 
seeking or exacting any more either of parents or 
children, could manage out of his 450 a year to keep 
either the chimney smoking or the oven heated. 

“Oh, my dear sir, if Blundell had at first as many 
grateful sons pouring in from all parts of Devon, and 
Dorset, and Somerset, and Cornwall, as there have been 
since our recollection ; and if these sons, sticking up for 
their rights, paid nothing from year to year, but used this 
as a free school and not a school of exaction, eating 
of the fattest and drinking of the strongest, and all 
at free cost, I am sadly afraid the master must have 
wished the ‘fair great chimney’ considerably lessened 
and the oven stopped up altogether. The usher must 
in those days have had the best of it, for having ‘one 
chamber to himself only,’ his boarders (since the master 
had some, of course the man must also) were no 
doubt made free of the aforesaid chimney and oven, 
permitted to eat, drink, and sleep in common with 
the others; he on his part fetching water and chopping 
wood occasionally, or perhaps making up the dough, 
or putting in the batch, with all the perquisites of 
cookery in flattering perspective. 

“ Again, as to the gardens—the large extensive gardens 


320 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


—you, as the erudite expounder of Blundell’s will, are 
perfectly ata loss how they should be deemed necessary 
for the master’s family alone ; and so am I, and so must 
any man in his senses. No, no! _ Itis as clear as noon- 
day that Blundell intended the gardens for the foreigners 
also. He wished their bee-hive condition indoors of 
an evening to be agreeably contrasted by a run in 
the gardens to stretch their limbs of a morning, here 
to crop a flower, or there to pluck a gooseberry ; to-day 
to taste a plum, to-morrow to take a peep at the 
apricots, and next day to cull the choicest product of 
the vine, so that they might go back to school with 
a greater relish for Latin and Greek, and, whilst luxuri- 
ating in their chimney accommodations or chamber 
enjoyments, might learn to despise and contemn those 
unlucky ones who were shut out by the ‘strong gate’ 
of the inexorable donor from participation in all or 
any of the inestimable rights and privileges... As 
it is understood that the feoffees have now a surplus 
income of about £500 a year, how can they commence 
the application of it better than by papering the school- 
room and ordering a new Turkey carpet for the Green ! 

“JI must, in conclusion, also congratulate you on 
the capital style in which you have come over the 
tradesmen. You see there is a great public meeting 
called about this school. You and I will go together, 
and if you can only make your paper good and get 
the meeting to believe that those ‘families that have 
made Tiverton their residence for the sake of the 
benefits to be derived’ should not be allowed to send 
their children as day-scholars, inasmuch as they are not 
foreigners (for we have clearly shown that all foreigners 
are boarders), we shall then succeed in ousting those 


AS OLD BOY AND GOVERNOR 321 


families altogether and increasing the number of — 
boarders, which is, you know, our paramount object, 
and indeed all we wish todo. Now wouldn’t this be 
a capital thing for the tradesmen? See what a deal 
more money is spent by seventy or eighty boys at 
the school than there is by the same number of families 
resident here! Can any one in his sober senses believe 
but what the custom of a little hobbledehoy for skipping 
ropes and penny whistles is much more valuable than 
that of his father and mother and brothers and sisters? 
To be sure it is. Our salvation rests on the boarders. 
They shall hound away all the day-boys, leer at the 
master, quiz the usher, bamboozle the porter, thrash 
the tailor, chant ‘God save the Queen!’ till all’s blue, 
and write to Her Majesty again for a fortnight’s longer 
holiday.” 


From the calamity thus inflicted Blundell’s recovered 
but slowly. Of course, the school could not do without 
boarders ; and although the Vice-Chancellor’s judgment 
appears to have been in harmony with Blundell’s will, 
its expediency soon began to be doubted even by those 
who had clamoured and fought to secure it. There 
could be no question, at all events for a time, of restoring 
the status quo, but after a decent interval a way was 
found to neutralise the evil results of the agitation. 
Through the enterprise of the mathematical master, 
the Rev. Robert Duckworth, whose position was un- 
touched by the ruling, a boarding-house was established ; 
and his example was followed, though on a smaller scale, 
by other masters. Thus boarders were once more 
introduced, and the institution began to lift up its 
head again, and to show signs of prosperity. 

21 


322 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


A considerable impetus was given to the school by 
the appointment, in 1869, of Frederick Temple, its most 
famous Old Boy, to the See of Exeter. The event was 
celebrated the following year by a complimentary 
banquet in the Tiverton Atheneum, which was 
attended by many of the survivors of the “ great days 
of old,” partly as a tribute to their distinguished school- 
fellow, and partly as a means of reviving pleasant associa- 
tions. Temple was the life of the company, whom 
he delighted by his rally of allusions to former times. 
In 1874 Old Boys’ Day was revived, and has continued 
to be kept ever since. Two years later the new scheme, 
under which the Bishop of Exeter for the time being 
is ex-officio Governor of Blundell’s School, came into 
operation, and the then Bishop of Exeter was Dr. 
Temple. 

Both as Old Boy and Governor Frederick Temple 
was brought into intimate relations with his old school, 
whose interests he was now in a position materially 
to advance. More than once he presided over school 
dinners and luncheons at Tiverton and in London; 
and although Blundell’s had grown important enough 
to dispense with such advertisement, it was felt to be 
a great distinction to be represented before the world 
by a live archbishop, as he was in his last days. And 
this reminds us of a remarkable augury. When Blundell’s 
School was yet on the old site, on Lowman Green, 
Dr. Temple, then Bishop of Exeter, attended the Old 
Boys’ festivals pretty regularly, and figured prominently 
in the photographs taken year by year. On one 
occasion, just as the picture was about to be “ snapped,” 
the Bishop observed to the Old Boy next him (Mr. 
A. R. Payne, of Milverton) that the scene had been 


AS OLD BOY AND GOVERNOR 323 


changed, for instead of standing, as in former years, 
in front of the main building, they were gathered under 
an arch. “Ah!” replied Mr. Payne quickly, “that 
is to indicate your future position, my lord. You are 
to be Archbishop.” This remark, read in the light of 
Temple’s subsequent translation to Canterbury, deserves 
to rank as prophecy. 

Perhaps the chief event that marked his occupancy 
of that splendid post was the Lambeth Conference, 
when, as a relief from the austerities of debate, he took 
part in a cricket-match against the American bishops. 
Temple had never prided himself on his merits as a 
cricketer, but on this occasion he held his own against 
his episcopal compeers, coming as they did from a 
land where cricket is not followed with the same eager- 
ness and zeal as in this country. After the return 
of his American guests, Dr. Temple received from them 
a pleasing gift in recognition of his wise leadership 
and generous hospitality. The present took the form 
of a small private service of sacramental plate, silver- 
gilt, and set with stones. This was the work of Mr. 
J. H. Buck, designer to the Gorham Company, of New 
York, said to be the largest firm of silversmiths 
in the world. Mr. Buck’s father was second master 
at Blundell's during the dark days that followed the 
great deluge. He was himself born and educated at 
the famous Tiverton school, and has relations still 
living inthe town. It was certainly a happy coincidence 
that so notable a present to the distinguished Blundellian 
should have been designed and executed by a member 
of the same school. 

At one time and another Temple must have been 
the recipient of many delightful testimonials, but 


324. EARLY ASSOCIATIONS ‘OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


probably no tribute of esteem and affection ever ‘touched 
his heart like a simple token presented by the boys 
of the school on his elevation to the bishopric of London 

in 1885. The gift consisted of a massive inkstand, — 
made of oak from the old school and carved in the 
form of a shield. Both the shield and the glass inkpot 
were handsomely mounted in silver, and the plate 
on the top bore the following inscription: “Given to 
the Right Rev. Frederick Temple, DD., late Bishop of 
Exeter, on his translation to the See of London, by 
the boys of Blundell’s School, March 30th, 1885.” On 
the left of the inscription were the arms of the See 
of Exeter, and on the right those of London. On 
the top of the inkpot were the arms of Peter Blundell, 
with a scroll bearing the words, “Petrus Blundellus 
Fundator,” while beneath were copied the date and 
founder’s initials, as they appeared on the screen in the 
old school. 

It happened that a confirmation service was held the 
same day in the school chapel, when the Bishop delivered 
one of those plain but admirable addresses in which 
he so much excelled. At the close of the service the 
testimonial, which had been designed by one of the 
masters—the late Rev. T. U. Cross—was presented 
by the acting monitors. W. J. Morrell was the spokes- 
man, and in handing Dr. Temple the inkstand, said 
in the speech of the learned: 

“ Reverendissime Domine, tibi domus Blundellinae 
olim alumno nos hodie alumni hoc insigne nostrae 
erga te et voluntatis et venerationis in manus damus. 
Hoc te quidem eo libentius accepturum, pluris facturum 
speramus, quod solido et antiquo robore vetusti illius 
domicilii referat sanctitatem. Tu si forte inter tot 


-AS OLD BOY AND GOVERNOR 325 


tantaque negotia nostri interdum fueris memor, bene 
erit. Quam te inviti absente simus carituri, ad istud 
curae et honoris fastigium provecto, dicere longum est; 
hoc saltem pro comperto habueris memoriam inde nullo 
tempore elapsuram, ubi exegeris 


Monumentum aere perennius, 
Quod non imber edax, non aquilo impotens 
Possit diruere, aut innumerabilis 
Annorum series et fuga temporum.” 


In reply the Bishop said: “Gratias ago tibi, gratias 
vobis, Blundellini sodales, atque hoc pignus amoris 
vestri inter carissima semper habebo.” 

This parting token was presented to Temple in his 
quality of Old Boy, but he may be said to have earned 
that and much more by his gubernatorial exertions. 
The constitution of the new governing body was speedily 
followed by the rejuvenation of the school. It was 
the settled belief of the able men who now took the 
direction of affairs that, under modern conditions, it 
could not thrive on the traditional site; and although 
the removal of the school to a more healthy and 
elevated spot, involving as it did the purchase of 
much valuable land and the erection of new buildings, 
was a costly, and to some extent unpopular, experiment, 
the Governors determined to take the plunge as the 
only alternative to the gradual extinction of the glorious 
old foundation. 

In these unromantic and eminently practical pro- 
ceedings Dr. Temple bore a leading part, and before he 
left the diocese—on June 26th, 1880—the foundation- 
stone of New Blundell’s was laid by the late Earl of 
Devon after a religious service conducted partly by 


326 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


the Bishop himself. Temple thereupon returned to the 
old school to urge the desirability of a chapel, dwelling 
strongly on the benefit a chapel had been to masters 
and boys at Rugby. This proposal also bore fruit. 
On June 29th, 1883, he had the satisfaction of conse- 
crating the new chapel, again referring to the chapel 
at Rugby as the centre of school life and school 
memories. At such a time, how could he help thinking 
of the great Dr. Arnold and the beautiful monody of 
his college friend, Dr. Arnold’s poet-son, which begins 
so plaintively and ends so triumphantly? But even 
these high thoughts could not still or lessen a sense 
of gratitude to the obscure Blundell’s master, whose 
efforts, mainly, had converted the Bishop’s dream into 
a reality, and whose life, alas! was not to be much 
prolonged. The panels on the west wall of the chapel 
are an exact copy of those in the old school (which 
have now disappeared), and of the same material—oak. 
Two years later a stained-glass window was erected 
in the chapel by old Balliol Scholars, and heading the 
list of contributors was the Lord Bishop of London. 
This is not the only window in Blundell’s School 
chapel that will always be associated with his memory. 
No fewer than a hundred Old Blundellians served in 
the great Boer War, and of these several were killed 
or died of disease. It was therefore thought fit to 
erect a stained-glass window in the chapel in honour 
not only of the Blundell men who had fallen in that 
terrible struggle, but of all those scholars who had 
served their country in the Navy or Army. Now the 
late Archbishop had been educated at Blundell’s, he 
was one of the Governors and President of the Old 
Blundellian Club, but, over and above all that, he 


AS OLD BOY AND GOVERNOR 327 


was the son of a soldier who had died at his post on 
a foreign station. Who, then, could be so qualified to 
dedicate this window, or what greater honour could 
be paid to the brave sons of Blundell than the presence 
on this occasion of the Primate of All England? These 
arguments appealed to Dr. Temple, and, although his 
last days were among his busiest, he consented to go 
down to Tiverton and dedicate the window. 

The sun shone brightly as the train from Exeter 
(where Dr. Temple had been staying at the palace, 
with Mrs. Temple and one of his sons) entered the 
Tiverton railway station early on Wednesday morning, 
October 3rd, 1900. He was received by a popular 
resident and Old Blundellian, Mr. Lewis Mackenzie, 
and amidst the cheers of the crowd at once drove to 
New Blundell’s, where a khaki-clad guard of honour, 
consisting of thirty members of the new cadet corps, 
presented arms, and Miss Mildred Norman, the young 
daughter of one of the masters, offered Mrs. Temple 
a bouquet. Turning to the cadets, his Grace compli- 
mented them on their appearance. “You make,” said 
he, “a fine show, and I hope, if ever you are called 
on for service, you will do your duty.” The Archbishop, 
his chaplain, the clergy, the masters, and the choir 
then adjourned to the lower corridor of the school 
building, and having robed, walked in procession to 
the’ chapel. At the conclusion of the hymn, “Let 
God arise to lead forth those who march to war,” which 
was constantly sung at the school during the progress 
of hostilities, the Archbishop was conducted by his 
chaplain to the pulpit, and dedicated the window with 
a prayer specially composed by the school chaplain. 
He then preached a sermon from the text, “And 


328 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


whether one member suffer, all the members suffer 
with it ; or one member be honoured, all the members 
rejoice with it. Now ye are the body of Christ and 
members in particular” (1 Cor. xii. 26, 27). 

“The words of the text,’ he said, “were applied 
by St. Paul to the Corinthian church, and, of course, 
they are applicable not only to the Corinthian church, 
but to the whole church throughout the world, and 
to all other institutions in which God’s glory is sought. 
The words are therefore applicable to any Christian 
school which recognises that one great Body, Christ 
Himself, is at the head of it. In every school the 
members are in a measure bound up one with another. 
We are met this day to dedicate a window which has 
been erected for the purpose of perpetuating the memory 
of those who have been scholars at the school, and 
have gone forth on the errand of their country and 
Queen, and have fallen. The window is erected because 
you have recognised that, although these comrades 
had left the school, they belonged to it, and were 
members of it in a very real sense; and the school 
shares in the honour they have gained. 

“All of us,’ he continued, “are members one of 
another, and I, an old scholar of this school, come 
here to discharge the fitting duty of remembering old 
schoolfellows, who have gone forth from here and 
distinguished themselves, not perhaps individually by 
anything special, but by risking and giving their lives 
for the sake of their country. If it be asked how the 
members of a school are bound together, I answer that 
a Christian school more nearly represents the whole 
Christian church than any other institution that can 
be named. When a school consists in those who are 


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AS OLD BOY AND GOVERNOR 329 


growing up in the instruction of the Lord, who are 
receiving the knowledge that is necessary for their lives 
and will make them better servants of God, it is training 
those who come together for a high and holy purpose, 
drinking in noble principles and rules of conduct. 

“What can be worse for a school than a thoroughly 
bad boy living amongst his fellows and setting before 
them an example of disregard for all that is highest 
and best in human nature? What can be a greater evil 
than that such an one should win some share of the 
admiration of others? What greater temptation than 
that which besets the young when amongst them 
there is one, perhaps, who may be of fascinating character, 
but who, nevertheless, knows not what it is to be 
devoted to what is good and holy? [I do not know 
of any greater mischief that can befall a school than 
that there should, as sometimes happens, be an influx 
of new boys, many of them really bad. It is a mischief 
that can be got rid of only slowly. On the other 
hand, what a pleasure it is when the mass of the boys 
in a school are really good, and, while having all the 
imperfections of youth and childhood, yet possess the 
capacity for what is noblest and best. Parents hardly 
know the anxiety which presses upon the headmaster 
of a school like Blundell’s, when there is any consider- 
able number added to the list of scholars—anxiety 
not so much for their abilities and powers of learning 
as for their character. 

“How I can remember my own early days in the 
buildings not so far away, where the school stood 
for many years! How I can remember the evil wrought 
by those who were willing that they should be on 
the side of evil, and how much blessing came to: the 


330 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


school from those who had been brought up in the fear 
of the Lord, and still cherished that fear! And this 
is more plain to me now by far than it was when I 
was at the school. Then I shared all the influences, 
good and bad; then I had my share in influencing 
my schoolfellows ; and I knew it not then as I know 
it now. In such days is to be found very often the 
true beginning, as it were, the source, of much in after 
life. We look back and see the friends that then 
were made—friends who remained in close friendship 
for long years after; and we see how they helped 
or sometimes marred what was best. We look back 
and see the thoughts that were suggested by those who 
taught, the principle that governed their actions, and 
we see what it was that made the school what it was. 
The traditions of good and the traditions of bad live 
on and on; some are honoured, and some bring dis- 
honour on the school. I pray you, my schoolfellows, 
to lift yourselves high with the! hope that you may in 
course of time be an honour to the school; and to 
bear in mind that, even though you earn distinctions, 
the quiet, resolute, religious life, not much talked of, 
and not conspicuous to the world, yet makes you 
members of the Christian body in the estimate of the 
Judge of all the earth.” 

The service ended, the Archbishop was shown over 
the school buildings, and on taking his departure from 
the headmaster’s house was lustily cheered by the boys 
who accompanied on foot the carriage that conveyed 
Dr. Temple and the Mayor to the town. On reaching 
Old Blundell’s the Archbishop asked that the carriage 
might be stopped; and, followed by the Mayor and 
many of the scholars, he crossed the Green to the old 


oe 


AS OLD BOY AND GOVERNOR 331 


school. Here he spent some of the happiest moments 
of the day. He seemed to become a boy once more, 
and the stories of his long-past schooldays were listened 
to with rapt attention. Surrounded by a crowd of 
his young schoolfellows he wandered about the Green, 
pointing out this and talking of that until time would 
not allow him to stay any longer, and he had to tear 
himself away. Standing, for instance, on a certain spot, 
the Archbishop mentioned that it was there he received 
a severe blow in the eye from a cricket-ball, which 
he had attempted, unsuccessfully, to stop with his hands. 
Passing to the triangular plot of grass, he said it was the 
“Troning Box” of his day, and “here,” he added, “we 
defied the jurisdiction of the Mayor, for it was the scene 
of all the school fights.” Mr. Dunning remarked that, 
of course, the Mayors of those days were not present 
on such occasions, and Dr. Temple replied, with a smile, 
“The boys took good care of that.” 

Before leaving Old Blundell’s Dr. Temple clambered 
through the laurel-bushes to the wall of the old building, 
and inspected the place where in his schooldays he 
had carved his name in the stone. He then re-entered 
the carriage with the Mayor, and set out for the Town 
Hall to receive the freedom of the borough. On appear- 
ing in the hall with his wife and son, Dr. Temple was 
greeted with loud applause by the large assembly ; and 
on catching the name of Mr. R. H. Clarke, of Bridwell, 
who, with others, had written expressing his regret 
at being absent, remarked “ Dear old Dick!” 

The town clerk having read certain legal documents 
authorising the procedure, the Archbishop took the 
oath of allegiance, and made a declaration to the effect 
that, “as a true and franchised man,” he would 


332 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


“preserve the common peace and tranquillity of the 
borough,” and if he knew of any unlawful conventicles 
or assemblies against the state thereof, he would “ forth- 
with disclose the same to the Mayor.” He concluded 
with the assurance that he would “defend the ancient 
customs and privileges of the borough in every just and 
lawful cause.” 

The Mayor made the presentation in happy terms, 
and the Archbishop rose to return thanks, but, owing 
to the enthusiasm of the audience, it was some minutes 
before he could make a commencement. When at 
length he was suffered to open his lips, he charmed 
his fellow-burgesses with a most genial and humorous 
speech. | 

“T can assure you,” he said, “that in the midst of 
a great deal of hard work there is every now and then 
something happens which gives great delight to the 
man who is working—something which seems to sweep 
away all feeling of weariness and discomfort arising 
from the duties which have to be discharged, and all 
feelings of longing to have one’s time to oneself. There 
is every now and then something which goes deeper 
than the understanding and deeper than the ordinary 
emotions—something which touches the heart. And 
there have been times when my heart has been very 
much touched in this way, more particularly when on 
any occasion I have found myself welcomed by old 
friends. 

“ And of all my recollections of former days there 
is none which stands out before me, and which occupies 
so strong a position in my memory, as the memory of 
the days that I spent when I was a boy at Blundell’s 
School, and in the town of Tiverton. I can’t help 


‘AS‘OLD BOY AND GOVERNOR 333 


wishing sometimes that some one who had authority, 
and not only authority, but power to do it, would 
change me into a boy once more, so that I could go 
back to Blundell’s School. I can’t help a sort of 
feeling that there were happinesses in those days which 
have never returned after those days passed away. I 
can’t help feeling emotion at the sight of the old place, 
of. the old town, of the people whose faces seem as if 
they could not welcome me too warmly. I can’t help 
somehow being stirred up by this, more, I think, than 
anything else can ever stir me, because I was here for 
some years, and I met with unvarying kindness from 
all the residents with whom I was acquainted. Here 
it was that I obtained the beginning of my own after- 
career, because from here I took the scholarship which 
introduced me to Balliol College—unquestionably the 
best place of education to be found in either university. 

“Tt is, I suppose, common enough for a boy, when 
he goes back in after years to his old school, to look 
at the places which he once knew. I have just come 
from Old Blundell’s School, and have stood once more 
on the ‘Ironing Box.’ I don’t in this hall venture 
to tell the Mayor what it was that we did upon that 
triangular piece of ground ; he might think it necessary 
even after this lapse of time to order the police to 
take cognisance of it. I have stood there once more. 
I have looked at the place where ‘P. B.’ used to stand, 
and I have a recollection of the days when I used to 
stand at that ‘P. B. and try to push the water with 
my feet over those beloved letters. 

“There is a great wood not far from Tidcombe—it 
is on the right-hand side of the road as you go to 
the old Tidcombe Rectory; and in the middle of the 


334 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 


wood there was a tree in my days bigger than all 
the rest, which topped them exceedingly. I have been 
delighted to notice since that it is no longer so con- 
spicuously visible. All the other trees have grown up 
around it, and it is no longer taller than the rest. 
But it is there still, I have no doubt, and the very 
change in the scene tells me how many years ago it 
was that I was in this delightful place, and how I did 
enjoy it when I was here.” 

The Archbishop probably alluded to a fine oak which 
the writer can well remember as existing in his boyish 
days, though what impressed him was not so much its 
height as its enormous girth. It was seldom that he 
passed that way without entering the wood to have 
a look at it. Not long since he paid a special visit 
to the spot, in order to ascertain what had become 
of the “stick” (as the Devon woodman hath it), being 
by no means confident that the Archbishop’s explana- 
tion was correct. Alack, it was nowhere to be seen, 
and there were abundant tokens of the axe having 
been at work. 

Lapse of time seems to have made Dr. Temple 
somewhat forgetful of local names, or he might have 
told his audience that the wood is on the right- 
hand side of Newte’s Hill, and that the wood itself is 
called Newte’s Plantation. The point is worth noting, 
because in the annals of his old school hardly any name 
is so honoured as that of Newte. Our information re- 
garding Peter Blundell’s youth comes from Henry Newte, 
first town clerk of Tiverton. His son, Richard, one 
of the rectors of Tiverton at the time of the Civil 
War, lived at Tidcombe Rectory, which was burnt by 
the Puritan party; and on his recovery of the living, 


AS OLD BOY AND GOVERNOR 335 


he placed with Blundell’s trustees a sum of money 
enabling them to found a second Balliol fellowship, to 
which his son John received the first appointment. 
John Newte established a Newte Exhibition at Balliol, 
and Samuel Newte preached the sermon at the school 
anniversary of 1725, for which the Hogarth ticket was 
designed. The present Tidcombe House stands on the 
site of the rectory re-built after the Civil Wars and 
pulled down in the early part of the nineteenth century. 
Of the home of the Newtes nothing now remains but 
the fish-ponds, the cellars, and the old gardens. Lastly, 
we must not forget the tradition that the trees in the 
Green were slips from the old lime still standing at the 
Tidcombe foot of Newte’s Hill. 

Thus all unconsciously Temple—it is his best style— 
alluded to a centre of venerable traditions closely 
connected with the history and evolution of his 
beloved school. Hardly more than two years had 
elapsed after these events when, on December 27th, 
1902, the Archbishop passed away, full of years and 
honours—followed by the wistful glances of old friends 
and schoolfellows, and attended by the mournful homage 
of the world. 


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INDEX 


ACLAND, SiR THomAs (a), 302 

Acland, Sir Thomas (4), 229 

Aldhelm, Abbot, 27 

Alexander and the King of 
Egypt, 214-8 

Armada, The Spanish, 61, 130 

Arnold, Matthew, 326 

Arnold, Dr., 314, 326 

Ashford, Dr., 77 

Aubrey, 105, 112, 122 

Axe, River, 31 

Axmouth, 2 

Axon, 71, 74, 86, 88, 89 


BABBACOMBE, 7 

Balliol College, 128, 129, 301-15; 
scholars, 305, 306, 326 

Baptists, 97 

Baring-Gould, Rev. S., 50, 156 

Barnstaple, 103, 128 

Beacon Hill, 2, 9, 53, 59, 62, 80, 
86 

Beatrice, The Princess, 311 

Beauties of England, The, 1 

Beche, De la, 1 

Bernard, St., 32 

Berry, William, 78 

Birch Hill, 2 

Bishops, American, 323 

Blackborough, 15 ; beacon, 6 


337 


Blackdown (or Blackdown 
Range), 1-22, 29, 51 

Blackmore, Rev. John, 94-7 

Blackmore, Richard Doddridge, 
16, 53, 58, 94, 240, 255-9, 
284 

Blackmore clan, 98 

Blackwood’s Magazine, 268 

“ Blue” boys, 194-8 

Blundell, Peter, 117-23 142, 297, 
298 

Blundell’s School (Old), 129-31, 
133, 238-41, 278, 331; (New), 
325, 326 

Bodmin, Mr, J. Maclean’s history 
of, 73 

Bolstering, 175 

Boniface, St., 32 

Boswell, 72 

Boulton, Mrs., 148 

Boulton, Dr., 226, 228, 229, 235, 
237 

Bovet, Richard, 51 

Box-beds, 236 

Branscombe, 6 

Brewer, Lord, 32, 39, 44 

Bridwell, 57, 163 

Bristol Times and Mirror, The, 
266 

Broadhembury, 2, 13, 34, 47 

22 


338 


Brooking-Rowe, Mr., 32, 40 

Brown Down, 2 

Buck, Mr. J. H., 323 

Budleigh Salterton, 7 

Burnand, Sir F. C., 15 

Butler, Samuel, 128 

‘Bygone days in Devonshire and 
Cornwall, Mrs. Whitcombe’s, 
291 


Caps, 167 

Calls-over, 237 

Camden, 24 

Candelabrum, 224, 225 

Carew, Bampfylde-Moore, 134-40 

Carew, The Lady, 45 

Carew, Rev. R. B., 80, 137, 260, 
271, 311 

Carew, Sir Edmund, 45 

Carew, Sir Gawen, 45 

Carew, Sir Peter, 45 

Carew, Mr. T., 137 

Carveths, The, 73 

Carving, 240, 241 

Cary, George, 130 

Castle Neroche, 2, 31 

Channel, Bristol, 7; English, 7 

Channon, Mr. Robert, 97 

Chesney, General Sir George 
Tompkyns, 121, 267-70 

Cholmley, Mr., 128 

Chomley, Rev. Hugh, 291 

Christmas Ghost, 48 

Churchstanton, 22 

Circuses, 202, 203 

Cistercian Order, 32-4, 38, 39 

Clarke, Mr. Richard Hall (2), 57 

Clarke, Mr. Richard Hall (6), 
163, 331 

Clarke, Mr. Thomas, 163, 233, 
234, 237, 309 


INDEX 


Collier, Captain Jewell, 57 

Collier, Mr. William, r1o1-102 

Colton, Rev. Caleb, 211 

Columba, St., 50 

Coombe Raleigh, 6 

“Cop,” 166, 167, 238, 256 

Cornishmen, 18, 20 

Cotton, Mr. J. S., 137 

Cramping, 177, 178 

Crockers Hole, 58 

Cross, Rev. T. U., 324, 326 

Culm, 4, 6, 31, 58, 80 

Culmstock, 9, 16, 22, 49-51, 53-62; 
beacon, 13, 60-62 

Culpepper, Master, 133 

Curland, 2 

Curriculum, 242, 271, 272 


Datwoop HILts, 6 

Dant, Mr. C. H., 304 

Darell, William, 108, 111-13 

Dartmoor, 3, 7 

Davey, William, 189 

Davidson, Mr. J. B., 36 

Dayman, Canon, 234, 235, 310, 
311 

Demetae, The, 28 

Dicken, Dr., 230, 232-4 

Doble, Sergeant, 79 

“ Doddeton,” 35, 36 

Domnonia, 27 

Downes, Rev. W., 5, 10, 12-14 

Dunkeswell, 8, 45; Abbey, 22, 
32-6, 38-44, 47 ; Common, 21; 
Church, 45 

Dunning, Mr. E. H., 331 

Dunsford, Mr. Henry, 271 

Duntze, Sir John, 151 

Duotriges, The, 23 

Dyfnaint, 29 


INDEX 


339 


EccENTRIC CHARACTERS, 200- | HACKER, MR. ARTHUR, 271 


204 
Edward III., 61, 120 
Elmore, 198, 199 
Elworthy, Mr. F. T., 115 
Emmanuel College, 128 
Epigrams, Latin, 145 
Ewing, Mrs., 213 
Exe, River, 4, 201 
Exeter, The Dean and Chapter 
of, 73, 95 
Exhibitions, 149 
Exmouth, 5; Warren, 4, 5 


Factory, TIVERTON, 147 

Fagging, 170-5 

Fairies, 52 

Faraway Hill, 2 

Fellowships, Blundell’s, 128, 129, 
3097 

Fifth of November, 171, 172 

Fighting, 181-9, 270, 331 

Fisher, Mr. Arthur, 122, 149 

Fitton, Dr., 11 

Folland, Mrs., 166, 173, 256 

Forches Corner, 29, 76 

Frithelstock Abbey, 130 

Fry, Capt. Robert, 57 

Fuller, Thomas, 105 


GALE, 24 

Games, 277-82 

George III.,,140 

Geraint, 26, 27, 29 
Gittisham Hill, 2, 6 
Gladstone, Mr., 257 

Govett, Rev. Clement, 254 
Gray, Mr. S. O., 268 

Gray, Thomas, 72 

Guy de Beauchamp, 73, 113 


Hackpen Hill, 9, 17, 35, 54, 59, 80 

Haddon family, 80 

Hadow, Rev. George, 303-304 

Haldon, 3, 4 

Hall, Bishop, 126 

Harding, Colonel, 288, 290 

Harpford, 2 

Hawksdown, 2 

Hayter, Bishop, 140, 141 

Hayward, Abraham, 160-62 

“FH. B.,” 99 

Heathcoat, Mr, John, 294, 316, 
317 

Hellings, Mr. James, 57 

Hembury Fort, 2, 6, 23-5 

Hemyock, 8, 59; Castle, 48 

Hinds-Howell, Canon, 254 

Hogarth, 230 

Hook, Dean, 153-4 

Horne, Bishop, 72 

Hughes, Rev. J. B., 165, 245, 255, 
317 

Humphreys, Mr. A. L., 70, 15 

Hutchinson, Mr. P. O., 24 

Hyde Abbey, 146 


Idylls of the King, The, 26 

Impey, Archibald Elijah, 148-9 

Impey, Sir Elijah, 149 

Incledon, Mr. Robert Newton, 
122, 147 

Ine, King of Wessex, 27 

Inkpot, 324-5 

Ironing-box, 182, 331, 333 

Itineraries, 24 


JENKYNS, DR., 302-303, 306-309 
Jex-Blake, Dr., 314 

Johnson, Dr., 72 

Johnson, Major, 219 


340 INDEX 


Jowett, Rev, B., 306 
Justice of the Peace, 152 (note) 


Keats, REV, RICHARD, 144-50 

Keats, Sir Richard Goodwin, 
149-50 

Keble, 252 

Kekewich, Colonel S. B., 267 

Kelso, Mr., 91 

Kentisbeare, 13, 22, 45 

Keppel, Bishop, 72 

Kiddell, Henry, 142 

Kneller Hall, 262, 312, 313 


Lawson, REv. ROBERT, 260-61 
Lazar (or leper) houses, 37 
Lee, Mr. William, 75, 90 
Leighs, The, 49 

Leisure Hour, The, 208-212 
Littlecote House, 108-111 
Lion, The Red, 91, 92 
Lockhart, Father, 312 
Lorna Doone, 167, 179, 183 
Love, Miss, 219-20 

Luppit, 45 


MACKENZIE, MR. L., 327 
Maidendown, 9, 73, 74, 84, 88 
Malcolm, Sir George, 261 
Manning, Cardinal, 169, 312 
Matthew, John, 148 
Medals, 147, 148 
Melbourne, Lord, 99 
Membury Castle, 2 

“ Moridunum,” 24 

Morrell, W. J., 324 

Mortal Pen, 9-11 

Mummers, 213 

Murchison, Sir Roderick, 12 
Musbury Castle, 2 


NEALE, REv., J. M., 40 

Nelson, Lord, 150, 214 

New England, 106, 107 

Newman, Cardinal, 168, 169, 312 

Newte, family of, 334, 335 

Noon’s Barrow, 29, 30 

Norman, Miss Mildred, 327 

Northleigh, 2 

Norton, Mr. 
William, 84 

Nun, 29 


John, 85; Mr. 


Oak, great, 334 

Old Boys’ Day, 291-9, 322 
Otter, River, 2, 31 

Ottery East Hill, 21 

Ottery St. Mary, 2 

Owen, Canon, 307 

Owen, Rev. Donald M., 129, 271, 


312, 313 


PALMERSTON, LORD, 227-30 

Pandemonium, or the Devil's 
Cloyster, 51 

Parody, 287, 288 

Paul Pry’s Song, 222-3 

Payne, Mr. A. R., 322-3 

“ P. B.,” 282-8, 333 

Peace-egg, The, 213 

Peace rejoicings (1814), 63-8 

Peak Hill, 2 

Pennant, 25 

Perlycross, 16, 80, 94, 95 

Philpotts, Bishop, 98-100 

Pixie Garden, 25 

Polliards’ Ode, 139 

Poncheydown, II 

Pook, The Misses, 89 

Pook, Mr. John, 77, 97 

Popham, Sir John, 105 116, 121, 
126, 127 


: 
! 
: 


INDEX 


Pophams, The, 49, 107, 114 
Popham’s Pit, 115 

Post-office, Old Tiverton, 223, 224 
Prayers, 299 

Prescott, 16, 37 

Prestecote, John, 36-8 

Prince, 117 

Prince Consort, The, 313 


RACES, 295-7 

Rectors, 225, 226 

Reynolds, Rev. S. Harvey, 243 

Richards, Dr., 150-62 

Roasting, 170 

Rogers, Mr. W. H. Hamilton, 
7) 47 

Rokeby, 107 

Rolle, Lord, 302 

Romans, 22 

Russell, Rev. John, 154-7 


St. JAMES’s CHURCH, EXETER, 
130 

St. Peter's 
224, 293 

S¢. Peter, The, 130 

Salcombe Hill, 13 

Salter, Rev. W. C., 129, 165, 
236, 312 

Sampford Hill, 9 

Sanders, Rev. Henry, 235-72, 
284, 316 

Santa Maura, 102 

Scholarships, Blundell’s, 301 

Scott, Dr., 306 

Scott, Sir Walter, 107 

Seymour, Lord Webb, 108 

Shairp, Principal, 305 

Shakespeare, 47, 122 

Sheepwashing, 179 


Church, Tiverton, 


341 


Sheppard, Jack, 78 

Short, Mr. John, 73-5 

Shute Hills, 6 

Sid Valley, 6 

Sidbury Hill, 2 

Sidmouth, 2, 13 

Sidney Sussex College, 128 

Sigwald (or Higebald), 29 

Silverton Mummers Play, 213, 
214 

Simcoe, General, 49 

Simonsborough, 30 

Southey, Henry, 57 

“Speaking,” 275-7, 289-90 

Sports, 204, 205 

Stephens, Very Rev. W. R. W., 
153 

Stocks, 203 

Stukeley, 24 

Sumersetas, 3! 

Sunday School, 89 

Superb, The, 150 

Swaling, 9 


Tales from the Telling House, 96 

Taunton Pool, 179, 190 

Taylor, Mr. T. D., 258, 265, 266 

Taylor, Mr. Robert Henry, 264 

Taylor, Rev. Richard Howell, 
262-4 

Temple, Admiral, 72 

Temple, Archbishop, 62, 84, 85, 
89, 91, 128, 129, 163, 165-7, 188, 
189, 191, 192, 226, 230, 231, 
244-9, 255, 260, 262-6, 272, 
282-3, 295, 301-315, 322-35 

Temple, Colonel John, 83, 85, 
256-60 

Temple family, The, 83 

Temple, Major Octavius, 71, 81-5, 
924 


INDEX q 


342 | 
Temple, Miss Catherine, 83, 88, | Washington, 78 

92 Watchet, 7 
Temple, Miss Netta Jane, 83, 88, | Waterloo, Battle of, 77-81 

89 Waterloo Fair, 70 


Temple, Mrs. (mother of the 
Archbishop), 73, 82, 89, 91, 93 

Temple, Mrs. (wife of the Arch- 
bishop), 327 

Temple, Rev. William, 72 

Tennyson, 26 

Tidcombe, 166, 252, 333, 334 

Tiverton, 117-9, 194-231, 332-3 

Tiverton Castle, Siege of, 131, 132 

Toplady, Augustus Montague, 
47, 48 

Torre Abbey, 130 

Trees, 55-7 

Trustees’ Day, 289-91 

“ Tuns,” 30 

Twenty-nioth of May, 206-12; 
273-82 


UFFCULME, 6, 22, 35 
Uffculme Down, 25, 88 
Upcot Pen, 9 

Ussher, Mr., 8 


WALDRON, MR. CLEMENT, 229 
Ward, Artemus, I51 

Ward, W. G., 307, 311 
Washfield, 253, 254 


Wellington, Duke of, 62-6, 68-70 

Wellington Monument, 29, 30, 62, 
68-70 

Wellington, town of, 51, 62-8, 105 
113 

Welsh, The, 28, 29 

Wesley, Charles, 141, 142 

Wesley, John, 141, 292 

Wesley, Samuel, 141-3 

Whetstones, I1-21 

White Down, 133, 134, 258 

Whitmore, William, 118, 122 

Whitmore, Sir W., 122 © 

Williams, Captain, 77 

Winchester College, 145, 146 

Windows, Stained-glass, 104, 326 

Winfrith, 32 

Wingrove, Mr. and Mrs,, 221, 222 

“ Winkeys,” 238, 239 

Woodbury Hill, 7 

Wriothesley, Henry, 
Southampton, 47 

Wriothesley, Thomas, 47 

Wykeham, William of, 120 


Earl of 


YarTY, RIVER, 6, 31, 101 
Yeatman, Rev. H. F., 298 
York, Duke of, 140 


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Art Paper, including Photogravure Portraits. 


“These two handsome and profusely illustrated volumes . . . very valuable 
and interesting. The book is in every sense of the phrase ‘ vastly fine.’”—Pall © 
Mall Gazette. A 


Lonpon: HUTCHINSON & CO., PATERNOSTER ROW. 


10-41 


FORM 335 45M 


 \piv.s, 922.342 T2648 493936 
_ | Snell 


Div.£. 922.342 ‘T28ks 


